“I know. I came up with Grandmama, but if I go downstairs again, I am sure to say something offensive to Cousin Edythe or Cousin Elizabeth. Grandmama is content without me. Cousin Ethelinda is reading to her.”
Letty’s eyes twinkled. “How did Sir Antony manage at table?”
“As if he were to the manner born,” Charley said, twinkling back at her. “I found myself wondering if he might really be Sir Antony Foxearth-Tarrant.”
“He isn’t, is he?”
“No, I don’t think so. He is running a rig, as he calls it. I had better explain how it is, so that you will take extra good care not to unmask him.” It occurred to her that the gentleman they were discussing might well take exception to her decision to confide in Letty, but she knew she was safe in doing so. The little girl had lived her life in the diplomatic world. If she knew anything, she knew not to speak indiscreetly.
“Why Foxearth, do you suppose?” Letty asked when Charley finished.
“I haven’t a notion, but Alfred did not question it, so Sir Antony—as we must now think of him—must have got it right. I’ll ask one of them about it tomorrow.”
The depression that had enveloped her for days seemed to have disappeared, and when she awoke the following morning, she felt quite cheerful. The sun was shining, and the moor beckoned. Finishing a cup of chocolate and a bun in her room, she sent word to Letty to join her, went straight to the stables, and ordered the first groom she met to saddle Shadow Dancer. Only then did she realize that she had forgotten one small detail.
The groom, a new one, said respectfully, “Beg pardon, Miss Charlotte. I’ve got no orders yet from the master to saddle any horse today.”
“Where is Teddy?” she demanded. “Or Jeb?”
“I’m sure I can’t say, miss, but our orders from the master—”
“Alfred Tarrant is not yet master of Tuscombe Park, much as he likes to pretend he is,” Charley snapped. “Until he is, you would do well to obey orders given you by anyone in the family. Now, either send for Teddy or saddle Shadow Dancer yourself. He is the black roan gelding with the white blaze.”
“Mr. Tarrant said that horse is to be kept for Miss Elizabeth to ride,” the groom said doggedly.
“Oh, did he? And has Miss Elizabeth ever done so?”
“No, miss, but Mr. Tarrant said that gelding were most likely the best-trained for a lady. He said we wasn’t to let no one else ride it, only her.”
“Shadow Dancer,” Charley said grimly, “is my horse, not Mr. Tarrant’s. He is mine now, and he will always be mine, for my grandfather left me my choice of the horses in his stables. Moreover, if you let Miss Elizabeth try to ride him, you’ll soon see how well trained he is. For that matter, you try to ride him. My horses accept no rider but me without a command to the contrary, so do as I bid you, and fetch him out. The Lady Letitia’s chestnut mare, as well,” she added. “She will be joining me.”
“It’d be as much as my place is worth, miss. I dassn’t!”
“What is the trouble here?”
Charley jumped at hearing Sir Antony’s voice so near. Turning, she saw him standing in the stable doorway with Letty beside him, both dressed for riding.
“This dolt,” she said, “refuses to saddle my horse or Letty’s, and I don’t know what’s become of either of our grooms. Alfred gave a lot of stupid orders the day we rode to Seacourt Head, and I haven’t ridden since then. I forgot about them.”
“That’s right, sir,” the groom said. “The master gave orders that—”
“When I want to hear from you,” Sir Antony cut in, “I will inform you of it.”
“Yes, sir.” Flushing, he looked at his feet.
“Does this man know which horse you prefer, Miss Charlotte?”
“He does, although he informs me that Alfred has declared that Shadow Dancer must now be reserved for Elizabeth,” Charley added testily.
Letty chuckled. “I wish I may see her ride him.”
Her amusement eased Charley’s irritation. “It would be a sight.”
“And Lady Letitia’s mount,” Sir Antony interjected. “Does he know it as well?”
“He does. The chestnut mare in the stall next to Shadow Dancer.”
“Then I quite fail to see any problem.” Sir Antony raised his quizzing glass and peered through it at the groom.
“Please, sir,” the lad begged, shifting his feet uneasily, “I’ve got my orders.”
“Miss Charlotte has countermanded them,” Sir Antony said, speaking very softly. “You will saddle her horse, you will saddle the buttermilk mare for me, and you will saddle Lady Letitia’s mare. You will do all that right speedily and without any more backchat. Furthermore, when you receive orders from any member of the family, or any guest, you will do your best to carry them out. Is that clear?”
“Aye, sir, but what am I to tell the master?”
“I don’t much care what you tell him,” Sir Antony murmured, taking a snowy handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and using it to polish his quizzing glass. The groom hesitated. Glancing at him again, Sir Antony said with a sigh, “‘Duller must thou be than a fat weed.’”
“Sir, the master—”
“You know, I should dislike very much being put to the task of teaching you respect for your betters, but if you do not fetch those horses …” Letting his words trail ominously to silence, he returned the handkerchief to his pocket, shot the wavering groom a stern look, then added in quite a different tone, “At once, you egregious ass!”
Turning pale, the groom said, “Aye, sir.” And with a tug of his forelock, he fled.
“He has probably run to complain to his odious master,” Charley said bitterly.
“I doubt that,” Sir Antony replied.
“Egregious ass?”
“I rather liked the ring of that, myself.”
Antony saw from her expression that she still was not convinced the groom would obey him, but the lad soon returned with two others, and they quickly saddled the three horses. Miss Tarrant remained uncharacteristically silent, as did the child, and Antony felt a strong desire to teach both the obstreperous groom and his master a lesson in courtesy. Such tactics did not suit the role he was playing, however, so as much as the exercise might relieve his temper, he could not afford to indulge himself.
He continued to watch Miss Tarrant, his eyelids half-closed so that she would not too quickly become aware of his scrutiny. Anger had put fire in her cheeks, and her dark eyes showed lingering sparks. Admirable. She was a beauty, and no mistake, but she seemed unconcerned with her looks. Since she was old enough to have enjoyed a number of London seasons, and since she had also spent time with the diplomatic and aristocratic sets in Paris, he knew she must be aware of her charms. He could not imagine her entering a room without every eye instantly turning her way.
He watched her approach the black roan. It pranced and tossed its long mane in evident delight, then nuzzled her shoulder and bosom in a familiar way that made Antony wish he could exchange roles for just a moment or two. Collecting himself, he stepped forward, intending to give her a leg up. To his astonishment, the roan knelt, the chit put a foot in the stirrup, and as the horse rose again, she arranged herself with such speed and dispatch that he knew she had done so many times before.
Letty had been watching him and when he caught her eye, she grinned at him and said, “Is Dancer not clever, sir? He is descended from a stallion my papa owned for many years, but in fact, all of Cousin Charley’s horses are trained to kneel. That way a lady can mount without a block.”
“Very sensible,” Antony said, lifting the child to her saddle before the groom could do so. “What other tricks has she taught them?”
He glanced at Miss Tarrant, hoping his provocative tone might draw her into their conversation, but she was still silent, her lips pressed together. Clearly, the lady still bore some resentment at having her will crossed.
Letty’s voice reminded him that he had asked her a question, but as
they rode into the sunlight, he caught only the end of her reply. “… all manner of things,” she said, “even to stop still when she makes a certain sound.”
“She can make a horse stop on command?” This time he caught Miss Tarrant’s gaze, but although she looked steadily back at him, she did not speak.
“Oh, yes,” Letty said, “and many other things as well.”
Goaded now, determined to get a rise, Antony said as they left the stable yard and turned toward the moor, “It is a good thing I brought Annabelle with me. I daresay that if I were riding one of Miss Tarrant’s horses, and she became vexed with me, she would crook her little finger and I’d find myself flat on the ground. A dreadful blow to one’s dignity, don’t you agree?”
Letty laughed. “Do you think you would land on your dignity, sir?”
Even Miss Tarrant’s eyes were twinkling now, but she still seemed reluctant to release her resentment altogether.
Looking from one to the other, Letty said, “May I gallop, Cousin Charley?”
“If you promise to keep a sharp eye on the road.”
“I will.” Eagerly, the child urged her mare forward.
Guiding Annabelle in beside the black roan, Antony said, “Have you recovered yet, mon ange?”
She shot him an oblique look. “Recovered?”
“From the sulks.”
“I do not sulk!”
“Forgive me. I quite thought you were indulging yourself, but if you say you were not, I will not contradict you. As young Letty so wisely pointed out to me some time ago, a gentleman does not contradict a lady, even when she is wrong.”
She shot him another look. “Is this your notion of how to tease me into a better humor? Because if it is, you might as well spare your breath. I don’t believe in acting as if I feel one way when I feel another. If you don’t approve, perhaps you would prefer to ride alone. I don’t recall inviting you to come with us, in any event.”
He was silent for a moment, considering his reply. Then he said evenly, “First, I don’t exert myself to tease spoiled children out of the sulks, whatever their habits of courtesy or the lack may be. Second, I don’t think it would be kind to let you return to the stable without an escort. Being subjected to another of Alfred’s blustery tirades would not hurt you, but I cannot think Letty deserves to suffer the consequences of your actions yet again, through no fault of her own.”
She did not reply at once, and he saw that she nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. Imminently kissable, those lips, he thought, the way they looked firm and shapely one moment, soft and vulnerable the next.
“I’m sorry I was rude to you,” she said, surprising him.
Shifting his gaze swiftly to her eyes, he expected to meet with irony or mockery. Instead, she looked anxious, almost childlike, and sincere. He smiled. “I had begun to feel sorry for Rockland, but now I don’t think I’m sorry for him at all.”
She relaxed. “I suppose you felt sorry for him because he does not set his will against mine. He knows better than to do so, I expect, but I daresay he rarely has the impulse. He is lazy, sir, and prefers not to make decisions. I think he truly enjoys obliging people, if only he knows what they want him to do.”
“He must be a joy to his family,” Antony said.
“I don’t know much about them,” she said. “His father is long deceased, I believe, and his mama lives retired somewhere in Somerset, and never goes to town.”
“But if you intend to marry the man, surely—”
“Oh, good mercy, surely you must know that I agreed to marry him because it was that or living under Alfred’s thumb forever. Females of any sort have few choices in this world, sir. Impecunious females have none. If we do not marry, we must depend on more fortunate relations to support us. At least by marrying I shall have some small independence.”
“And so you mean to marry a fool who will let you rule the roast.”
She shot him an angry glare. “Do you think I will make him unhappy? I promise you I won’t, and if I had any doubts before, this morning’s little ordeal put them to flight. I’m not accustomed to servants questioning my orders, and I do not intend to suffer longer than necessary in a household where they do so.”
“I don’t think you are accustomed to seeing your will crossed by anyone, mon ange,” Antony murmured.
“Don’t call me that. It is most improper.”
“Ah, but you see,” he replied, “I am not in the habit of asking permission for what I do, any more than you are.”
Before she could retort, they heard a shout from Letty and saw her riding toward them at a gallop. At the same time, they heard barking behind them.
Reining in, they turned, and seeing the shaggy black and white dog hurtling toward them in full cry, Antony sighed with exasperation and said, “There is one who does not give a click of his toenails for my will and consent. Yes, Sebastian,” he added as the dog leapt excitedly around Annabelle’s legs, making the mare twitch its ears nervously. “I can see that you are delighted to have found me again, but much as I wish I could share your delight, you are quite out of place in the image I wish to project.”
Chapter Ten
CHARLEY CHUCKLED AT SIR Antony’s dismay, and Letty, reining in alongside of them, laughed and said, “I saw him coming, sir. I have been meaning to ask what you had done with him, but I forgot.”
“Sebastian, down,” Sir Antony said firmly. The dog ceased leaping and barking, but its tail wagged furiously.
Charley said, “It is clear to the meanest intelligence that he worships you. Where did you leave him when you came to Tuscombe Park?”
Sir Antony sighed. “My man, Hodson, said he had found a family willing to keep him. Clearly he was mistaken, but what am I to do with Sebastian now? Did you not say that Alfred was with you when I rescued him?”
“I did,” Charley agreed. “Still, I doubt if he would remember, for he has not seen Sebastian since, and there is—if he will forgive my saying so—nothing particularly memorable about him. Cousin Alfred saw him only when he was dripping wet, too, and he looks as if he’s been brushed and well fed in the meantime. I daresay that if Sebastian will consent to live in the stable, no one will pay him any heed. There are lots of dogs at Tuscombe Park. Cousin Alfred cannot know them all.”
Letty said doubtfully, “But the others will not exhibit such delight in Sir Antony’s company, you know. If Sebastian follows you into the house, sir, Cousin Edythe won’t like it. She doesn’t hold with animals indoors.”
“That explains why I have not seen Jeremiah,” he said. “I did not like to ask.”
“He stays in my room unless I take him outside,” she said.
“That settles it; I shall teach Sebastian to be a lap dog,” Sir Antony said, smiling at her. “I detest that woman.”
“We do, too,” Letty said. “Don’t we, Cousin Charley?”
“We do, absolutely,” Charley said. “Although I’ve got the most lowering notion that neither your mama nor your papa would want me to encourage such disrespectful comments from you, young lady.”
“No, ma’am.”
They looked at each other and grinned.
Sir Antony said sourly, “I cannot think you are providing a good example for this impressionable child, Miss Tarrant.”
“Very likely not,” Charley agreed with a rueful sigh, “but her parents have both known me for a very long time, so they will understand, I hope.”
He smiled at her. “May I ask where we are going?”
She had turned her horse away from the road, onto the open moor. Grinning back at him, she said, “I mean to have a gallop. Then we are going to chat with some of Grandpapa’s tenants to see what we can discover about plots.” Seeing him glance quickly at Letty, she added, “She knows as much as I do, for I told her. I’m sorry if you are vexed, but she spends most of her time with me, you see, and I could not imagine how to go about talking to people without confiding in her.”
“If you’d rather not t
rust me,” Letty said in a small, dignified voice, “I shall quite understand, sir.”
To Charley’s relief, he looked amused and said, “I believe I can trust you with my life, Lady Letitia. If the whole truth were known, I daresay you’ve already learned one or two diplomatic secrets that you would never divulge to a soul.”
She nodded, her expression serious. “My papa explained when I was very young that it is obligatory never to reveal to others what one learns by overhearing conversations at the embassy. Since I do not always remember whether I was asked to keep silent or not, I just don’t speak of matters that affect other people.”
“A wise child.” He glanced at Charley. “Do you mean to introduce me to these tenants of yours?”
“I do, if only to put a spoke in odious Alfred’s wheel by telling them he might not be the true heir. I just wish you were who you claim to be. The notion of Alfred filling Grandpapa’s shoes is almost more than I can bear. He is an encroaching toad.”
“May I remind you,” he said, raising his chin, “that you speak of one who is nearly related to me?”
She grinned more widely than ever. “Your brother, in fact.”
“Just so.”
“I just wish he were your brother. Something tells me you would have taught him better manners.”
“Ah, but he was still in leading strings when I went off to school, you see. At least,” he added with a thoughtful air, “I’m sure that’s how it must have been.”
Charley gave him a sharp look, but saw only quizzical amusement in his expression. She thought he might admit his true identity if she asked him, but she did not want to put that to a test just yet. Understanding him well enough to know he enjoyed the roles he played, she knew, too, that it would amuse him to know there were moments when she found herself believing he was really Sir Antony Foxearth-Tarrant. She was not ready to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, however.
Giving spur to Dancer, she leaned forward, urging the roan to a gallop, putting everything from her mind except the thudding of hooves on the turf, the cool morning air, the gentle rise of the nearby hills, and the colorful and shadowy undulations of the terrain ahead. Only when she heard echoing hoofbeats did she glance back to see her companions in hot pursuit. She noted with approval that Sir Antony rode as if he were part of Annabelle. She had known he rode well, but she had not seen him at speed before. Well aware that a stone wall lay not far ahead, she did not take her eyes from the moor for long. As she topped a low rise, the wall came into view. Glancing back again, she saw Letty draw her mare to the left, to jump the wide wooden gate instead of the wall. Sir Antony did not follow her. Nor did he pull right to take his own line. He was letting Charley give him a lead.
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