“What—Rosalie Smith?” he chuckled. “No competition to you, dear heart, though I could wish otherwise. She’s pretty as any picture, but at best would only be a—er—”
“You mean she is his mistress.”
He looked miserable. “I did not say that, Phoebe.”
“You did not have to. It is very clear, and of no interest to me. But I am sufficiently unsophisticated, Brooks, that I would very much like to wed a gentleman who, at least for a while, would be content with—just me.”
He swept her into his arms. “My God! Who could possibly look elsewhere once he had seen your radiance? Have no fears, my darling, you are all I could ever want!”
The blue eyes gazing at her adoringly were a so much deeper blue than those other eyes, and full of adoration; not a blaze that threatened to consume her. He was so loyal to Carruthers; so faithful in his love; such a gallant young man. She really was most fortunate to have found him. She allowed him one quick kiss, and was left with neither crushed ribs nor bruised lips.
* * *
Lady Eloise was taken by Mrs. Carruthers for a stroll through the several gardens and returned full of praise for the beauty of the ornamental water and fountains. It was very clear the two women thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, and when they all were gathered in the small dining room for luncheon, Phoebe thought Mrs. Carruthers fairly glowed with happiness. If there was still animosity between the brothers, neither showed it, and if Lambert noted the swelling beside Jeffery’s mouth and the welt along Meredith’s jaw, he made no comment. The worst moment for Phoebe was when Meredith presented her to Lambert as his ‘betrothed.’ She did not know where to look, but Lambert responded easily, “Miss Ramsay and I are acquainted, Merry, and you’ve my heartiest congratulations, you lucky dog.” He proceeded to tease Carruthers in so good-natured a way that Phoebe was astounded by his acting ability. He did not manage nearly so well a short while later, his jaw dropping and stark disbelief coming into his eyes when my lady said, “Now, Mr. Carruthers, do, I beg you, favour us with one of your poetical pieces.”
“Lud!” gasped Lucille, turning an amazed stare on her eldest son.
Meredith, who had been in the act of cornering some green peas, was so jolted that the peas sprayed the table. He flushed scarlet, his eyes positively glazing with shock.
Jeffery gave a muffled snort and disappeared into his napkin.
Carruthers shot a stunned glance at Phoebe, who smiled at him benignly, while fighting to smother a bubble of mirth.
Making a recover, Lambert said wickedly, “Oh, yes, pray do, Meredith. It would be so diverting.”
“I—could not do so without … seeming to brag,” said Meredith. “Miss Ramsay must recite them, rather.”
“Alas, but I’ve not a copy with me,” she mourned. “But you must recall the ode you writ to my eyes, Mr. Carruthers. I shall jog your memory. The first line, as I recollect, went: ‘Those great and sparkling emerald eyes…’” She rested those eyes on his desperation with demure encouragement.
“Oh, do complete it, Merry,” gasped Jeffery, apparently troubled by something in his own eye.
His back to the wall, Carruthers directed a swift and vengeful glance at Phoebe, then stammered, “Ah—Those great and—and sparkling—er, emerald eyes … Ah, Whose beauty—er, fairly petrifies…” He mopped his brow, but struggled on, “petrifies … My-self who—is, er, am—not very wise.”
Lady Eloise stared at him. “Oh,” she said blankly.
Phoebe’s eyes sparkled indeed, as Jeffery succumbed to a great shout of laughter.
Lucille looked from Lambert’s muffled hilarity to Jeffery’s tears, and said indignantly, “Well, I think it is really quite remarkable!” She smiled consolingly at the sweating Meredith. “And you two boys are behaving disgracefully.”
“For which,” growled Meredith, “there will be a moment of reckoning.”
He had not spoken with real animosity, but Jeffery’s mirth was wiped away. One hand lifted involuntarily to his damaged mouth, and for the balance of the meal he was subdued. Guessing that he was miserable and repentant, Phoebe felt sorry for him.
When they left the dining room, Meredith asked very softly, “Would you prefer to ride to your execution, Miss Ramsay? Or to drive?”
She stifled a giggle, and replied that since it was rather muggy, she really would prefer to ride.
Coming level with them in time to hear this, Lambert asked good-humouredly, “Are we allowed to accompany you?”
“Certainly not,” Meredith answered. “Find your own lady! I’ll not have you dazzling Miss Ramsay with your glorious scarlet coat and making me look a drab fellow by comparison!”
Lambert said nothing, but stood very still for an instant, his smile rather fixed.
* * *
Jeffery succeeded in detaining his brother in the Great Hall and offered a humble apology for his unsportsmanlike behaviour. “I explained to Mama that I had struck a foul,” he said, “and I know she feels very sorry for what she said to you.”
Meredith walked up the stairs with him. “It takes two to make a quarrel. I’m a deal short on tact, I fear. No, do not go on with your humility, for the love of heaven. I’m glad to see your sparring improves!”
Jeffery glanced at him shyly, met a wide grin, and gripped his shoulder in silent gratitude.
When they reached the first-floor landing, Meredith paused. “Do you care to ride with us to the Minor?”
“Thank you, no. I’ve another—appointment.”
They strolled on, and after a minute Jeffery voiced the thought that was in both their minds. “Mama did not mean it. You know that. She—she is deeply attached to you, Merry.”
“Yes.”
“It is only … Oh, damme, I know you do not care to hear it, but—sometimes you do look so blasted well like him.”
“Whereas you had the good sense to resemble the Bain-bridges.” Meredith cuffed him gently. “I know that, too.”
When they parted, Meredith said, “I shall not ask with whom is your appointment. I ask only that you do nothing that may cause Mama distress.”
Jeffery grinned. “I’d not dare! You carry an invisible sledgehammer in your dashed fists!”
* * *
The afternoon had become sultry and still, a line of clouds darkening the eastern horizon. Phoebe was a little surprised, on going down to the ground floor, to find Sinclair waiting alone, a set expression on his face. “Your beau has gone stamping off to the stables,” he imparted tersely. “It seems he don’t care to be kept waiting.”
“Oh, does he not! Surely I am not very late?”
“Course not. What’s half an hour to you ladies?” But his anger was almost palpable, and Phoebe linked her arm through his as they walked to the back door. “He has really put you out of curl. What is it? Something to do with our fugitive?”
“No. He—he properly warned me off, is all. And—I’ve done nothing, that is what rankles.”
“Oh, dear. The little village girl? I rather gather that she is—er, his.”
He pulled away and said vehemently, “That is not so! She’s the loveliest, purest, most innocent of creatures! I’d like to know what gives him the right—” He checked, scowling darkly.
“Just so, love. If you owned the villages—”
“I’d not think it gave me the power of life and death over the folks who dwell in ’em! The man is so set up in his own conceit, one might think him a—a veritable deity!”
“Good gracious! What did he say to you?”
He shrugged, and muttered sullenly, “No straight-out accusations. Just some aimless chatter that brought things around to her, and then a remark that she is so lovely he’s already had to warn some of the local bucks that she is one of ‘his people’ and he’ll not have her annoyed. ‘Annoyed,’ indeed!”
“Is that all? It sounds to me as if he was most—”
“Well, he was not! Those damnable icicles he has for eyes fairly stuck right
through me and half a yard out of my back! Damned puritanical busybody!”
She fought a smile. “Are you being quite fair, Sin? If he has some reason for supposing—”
“If he has, then it’s his mealy-mouthed brother has put the notion in his head.”
“Perhaps you’d best not ride with us, dear.”
He flung open the door and waved her through. “I wish I might not, but however top-lofty he is, we are indebted to him. I wish to heaven we weren’t! And I can well guess how much you wish it, poor girl.”
“Mmmn,” said Phoebe.
In the stableyard, Carruthers was chatting with a groom who held a fine dapple-grey horse.
“Oh, but he’s splendid,” Phoebe cried enthusiastically.
Carruthers bent to receive her foot and throw her into the saddle. “He is called Showers, and is one of my sweetest goers.” A spirited roan gelding was led out, and Carruthers went on, “Ramsay, this fellow is yours. You shall have to watch him. He’s a tendency to run away.”
Sinclair concealed his admiration of the fine animal, and murmured a cool acknowledgement.
Carruthers gave him a grave look, and whistled. A magnificent bay mare with three white stockings trotted from the stables to dance around and halt beside her master.
Sinclair quite forgot his anger. “I say, but she’s a beautiful animal! How is she called?”
“Spring. And she’s a handful, as she means to prove, I’m afraid.”
He was right. Spring was full of fun and went in dancing circles, Carruthers making no attempt to restrain her. Sinclair recalled belatedly that he had been dealt an unwarranted insult, and was haughtily silent. The clouds that had fringed the horizon were sliding up the sky, and a hot, fitful wind began to stir the tree-tops. Phoebe felt the tightness in her head that the presence of lightning always brought, yet she was exhilarated by the beauties about her and scarcely noticed her brother’s withdrawal.
They followed the estate road at first, passing several neat cottages which Carruthers said were the homes of retired servants. They rode past softly swaying fields of young corn, leaving the road about a half-mile past the cottages and turning north through open land where fat black cattle grazed contentedly. Uphill, gradually, and a low slate wall blocked their way, stretching off to right and left. Carruthers asked with a twitch of the lips, “Do you fancy you can negotiate this, ma’am?”
Before Phoebe could give him the set-down he deserved, Sinclair interpolated heatedly, “My sister can take a sight higher obstacle than that stepping-stone!”
“Indeed?” drawled Carruthers. “I shall have to find you some worthwhile jumps, ma’am.”
He leaned forward in the saddle, spoke softly to Spring, and the mare cantered along and sailed over, as light as thistle-down. Showers was only a head behind, clearing the wall neatly. Sinclair, angry, set the roan at the wall very fast. The big gelding soared high into the air, landed much too close to Spring, drawing a startled shout from Carruthers, and was away at a thundering gallop, Sinclair’s roared “Whoa’s” echoing behind him.
“Damned young fool,” fumed Carruthers. I told him the brute tends to run away! Why in the devil did he take that little wall as though it had been ten feet high?”
“Because he is the smarting victim of unjust calumny,” she replied.
He snorted impatiently. “Don’t like to be forewarned, eh? And here I’d fancied I was treading lightly.”
“My brother is more interested in books than petticoats. But he is growing up, of course.” Watching him from under her eyelashes, she added, “I think he is really smitten. Your village lass must be a rare charmer to have won so many admirers.”
At once his dark brows twitched into a frown. “Many? I know of only one other. Shall we get along, ma’am? Those clouds look rather threatening, and I’d not have you soaked to—”
“No. First I must talk to you.” She glanced around and then felt silly. As if anyone could overhear, and yet how pervasive was the threat, even now. “I was chatting with Captain Lambert, and—”
“You know him well?”
It seemed an idle question, but again she paused. What an ideal opportunity to tell him that she was promised to his nephew; but Brooks clearly wished to handle the matter. Carruthers turned to her with an enquiring expression, and she replied quickly, “We have had his acquaintance for some years. And I have been so anxious to tell you that he says the whole countryside from here to the coast is to be beaten. Will Lascelles be safe where he is?”
He reined up. “Devil take it! No, he will not. Did Lambert say when this search is to begin?”
“No. Only that he is subject to recall if needed to participate in the hunt. I rather gather it is imminent.”
He swore under his breath. “Then we must move Lance tonight. Certainly we cannot do anything by daylight, so we’d as well have our ride, if— Oh, blast!”
Following his irked gaze, Phoebe saw Justice coming up, limping painfully, his tongue lolling, and in a state of near exhaustion. Carruthers dismounted and dropped to one knee beside the dog. “You confounded old fool,” he scolded.
“Poor fellow,” said Phoebe, sliding from the saddle. “Is he ill?”
“Not as young as he used to be—like Joseph.” He lifted the right front paw to inspect it narrowly. “I told my man not to let him out, for I knew he’d follow. He hurt this article recently and it was near healed.” He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wrap it around the torn pad while the big dog sprawled helplessly and tried to lick his hand.
Phoebe asked, “Can he walk all the way home?”
“I suppose he could, but I’d prefer he not do so.” He stood, glancing around. “If I carry Justice to that stand of oaks at the foot of the hill, would you object to waiting with him while I ride on to my farm? It’s quite close by and should not take above a quarter of an hour. I’ll bring one of the lads with a cart, and he can convey the old fellow back to the Hall.” He glanced eastward and added uneasily, “Those clouds are really blowing, in; we may not be able to get to the village after all. I’m dashed sorry, but he really shouldn’t walk on that paw, so if you don’t mind—”
“Oh, do stop talking such fustian, Meredith! Of course I don’t mind.”
Carruthers grinned at her, and gathered the dog into his arms. She had wondered how he meant to accomplish this, for Justice was a big animal and she fancied he might be alarmed and struggle against being lifted. Carruthers managed it quite easily. Justice’s paws rested on his master’s shoulders, and Carruthers supported his hind quarters. The dog’s soulful eyes regarded Phoebe with calm placidity, as though he thought, ‘What did you expect?’
“Jove, but I’m a thimblewit,” groaned Carruthers. “I should have helped you mount up first, but it’s not very far. Can you bring Showers, ma’am? Never worry about Spring—she’ll follow me.”
The mare was grazing and apparently paying no attention to them, but they had gone a very little way before her muzzle was at Carruthers’s neck, and she stayed close beside him until he had set the dog down in the shelter of the trees. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” he promised. “This is miserable for you, but—”
Phoebe jabbed a finger in the direction of the waiting horse, and Carruthers chuckled, said, “Aye, aye, ma’am,” and threw her a brisk salute. The wind moaned and the branches swayed agitatedly. “Are you cold?” he asked, and began to shrug out of his coat.
“I am not cold. I am perfectly well. I think I will not perish of hunger or thirst whilst you are gone, and I fancy Justice will protect me from any lurking brigands,” she replied, twinkling at him. “Be off with you, sir!”
He mounted up, said firmly, “Justice—stay!” and with a flourish of his tricorne was away at the gallop.
Watching horse and rider streak across the meadow, Phoebe found that she was still smiling. Meredith Carruthers was a stern gentleman with a daunting manner, but he was very obviously obsessed by a need to protect any creature f
or whom he felt responsible. It was, she reflected, rather an endearing quality.
After a few minutes she started to wander about a little, but Justice immediately began to struggle to his feet, so she went instead to sit beside him. He lolled against her companionably, and she fondled his head, pulling the great folds of loose skin into ripples around his face and then telling him how silly he looked. He thumped his tail to show that he did not at all object, but cringed as thunder rattled distantly. The moments drifted past; the wind seemed to rise a little, and the dark clouds slid ever nearer. Justice gave a faint moan as lightning flashed, and Phoebe ducked her head against him as the following thunder boomed out. “A fine pair of cravens we are,” she said, then jumped up eagerly. It did not seem as if fifteen minutes had gone by, but a rider was approaching. A moment later, she saw a familiar bay mare and the erect figure of Brooks Lambert, and she waved and called to him.
He turned his mare to the trees. “Phoebe! What the deuce are you about?”
Justice gave a deep bay and wagged his tail in welcome. Lambert swung down, tethered his mare loosely, and hurried to take Phoebe’s hands.
She explained rapidly, then asked, “Were you looking for us?”
“Yes. I’m recalled, curse it! That confounded Colonel has roped me in, and I’ve to report at once. I’ll be damned if I will leave you here without I’ve told Carruthers how matters stand, so came to find him and lay our cards on the table.”
She said uneasily, “Brooks, I wish you would let me tell him.”
“Why should you have to do it? The only reason I delayed was that I hope to catch him in a good mood and enlist his aid. I’ve no wish to antagonize him, nor,” he added with a grin, “to lose the allowance he makes me.”
“I see that, of course,” she said rather dubiously. “Although I own—”
A shout interrupted her, and Carruthers rode up at the gallop. He dismounted, looped the reins around the pommel, and turned Spring loose. Justice limped eagerly to meet him, and he patted the hound while glancing curiously at Lambert.
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