Indigo Moon

by Patricia Rice

  Harley brightened. “I would be delighted. I shall be able to make a round of visits for a week simply on the subject of your introduction to county society. Where would you like to start?”

  Though he made light of it, Aubree suspected he spoke the truth. Heath had warned her that his standing with his neighbors was not a good one, and the village folk would be even less forgiving than the gentry. It would help if she knew the stories behind the rumors, but Heath had not seen fit to provide her with that information. She walked blindly into unknown territory.

  “I need someone who deals in spices, I believe,” she answered. Before this day ended, she would have the village know that she meant business.

  Harley directed her to a small shop on the village’s main street. Aubree dismissed John to tend to his own amusement. Myna had already flown off to circle the town in search of bird delicacies.

  Inside, the scent of dried herbs mixed with the odors of camphor and liniment, and Aubree blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim interior. A doughy-faced proprietor watched her suspiciously while an elderly customer swaddled in ancient black bonnet and innumerable shawls peered at them with open curiosity.

  Aubree presented her list and inquired, “Will you be able to supply me with these, sir?”

  By now, the black-garbed woman had digested the cost of Aubree’s tailored fawn riding habit and judged the quality of her speech and recognized Harley. With a nearly toothless smile, she asked, “You be from the hall, then? Not one of your sisters, eh, Master Harley?” She winked.

  Aubree turned the full effect of her smile on the old woman. “I’m from the abbey. Mr. Sotheby is good enough to escort me on my errands this morning.” Properly, she should not have acknowledged the old gossip, but she had plans of her own, and there was no better way of setting them in motion than gossip.

  Both the proprietor and the old woman stared at her as if she had claimed residency on the moon. The man behind the counter turned and began replacing the spices she had requested to the shelves.

  “Sorry, miss, we don’t extend credit to the abbey.” He spoke gruffly, not rudely, simply stating a fact of life.

  Aubree pressed her lips together and opened her purse of coins. “I am prepared to pay for my purchases, sir,” she informed him.

  The old woman cackled. “She’s got you there, Barnaby. Ain’t you heard? Our earl’s gone and wed a rich wife. You’d best spruce up your manners, boy.”

  She peered from Harley to Aubree and back again, finally addressing her question to a familiar face. “How comes it you’re consorting with the abbey again, Master Harley? Does your papa know?”

  Harley had held himself aloof as a proper gentleman would, but at this direct inquiry he replied, “My father holds no complaint against the countess, Mrs. Green, and I suggest we would all do well to show her our welcome.”

  He turned his glare on the shopkeeper. “I’ll vouch for the lady’s credit, Barnaby. I’ll not have the countess carry gold about like a common moneylender. Send her package to the abbey. Lady Aubree, if you are ready. . .” He held out his arm in dismissal of the shop’s occupants.

  The shopkeeper had already noted the glint of coin and the depth of the lady’s purse and obliged.

  Startled at the realization that Aubree must actually be the new Countess of Heathmont, the old woman bobbed a hasty curtsy. Aubree rewarded her with a warm smile.

  By the time she had worked her way through half her list of purchases, the entire town had learned the new countess was in their midst. They treated her with wary deference. Aubree heard the whispers and caught their stares of curiosity. She diverted their gossip by leaving hints that the abbey would be hiring if any wished to apply. She did not expect immediate results, but planted the seeds for thought.

  Before they entered the dress-goods shop, a curricle clattered down the street and halted in front of them. The two well-dressed occupants called a greeting, and grinning, Harley introduced them.

  “Lady Aubree, I would like to present you to my sisters, Anna and Maria. If they were not so slow in rising, they would have joined us much earlier.”

  Aubree couldn’t prevent a grin at this obviously well-planned attack. If she had set out to conquer the village, the Sothebys had set out to conquer her.

  “It’s my pleasure,” she murmured as Harley helped his sisters from the vehicle. Anna was apparently the taller, older sister, a few years younger than Harley, perhaps. Where Harley’s hair was a deep coppery auburn, Anna’s was a bright carroty orange. But her smile was pleasant and her voice well-modulated as she acknowledged Aubree’s greeting.

  Maria hopped from the curricle with little help from her brother. More Aubree’s age than either of the others, she beamed with self-congratulation at succeeding in this plot to meet their new neighbor. Though still showing evidence of the Sotheby red coloring, her hair tended toward a more subtle hue of strawberry blond. She spoke with less propriety and more eagerness than her sister.

  “I am ever so glad that Harley hasn’t made a complete cake of himself yet and that you’re still on speaking terms with him, Lady Aubree. I would have just died if I’d known there was someone my own age at the abbey and I couldn’t speak with them. Have you just come from London? Did you visit King’s Theatre? Did you go riding in Hyde Park? Of course, you did. How foolish of me.”

  She cut off her flow of chatter abruptly after a stern look from her older sister. Their indulgent brother had already taken their places in the curricle and called to them now.

  “I’ll just take the team around to the stables. Tell the girls where you want to go, my lady, and they’ll take you.” He whipped the horses into a trot and rolled off.

  By the time Harley ambled back to join them, the girls were deep in animated discussion over the merits of Sir Walter Scott’s novels and the benefits of chamomile when feeling sickly. At his arrival, they changed the subject to the necessity of purchasing a carpet Aubree had discovered in the mercantile shop and the best means of transporting it to the abbey intact, since the clouds threatened rain.

  Harley solved the problem by suggesting the use of Heath’s new covered carriage, relieving the shopkeeper.

  As they strolled toward a tea shop tucked away in the front room of a cottage at the end of the street, a familiar figure rode down the street. By the square cut of his coat and the polished gleam of his boots, he was obviously a wealthy gentleman. Aubree and her companions weren’t the only ones to stop and stare.

  “Geoffrey?” Aubree murmured in astonishment as he reined to a halt in front of them and doffed his hat.

  Her companions did not find his appearance so astonishing and welcomed him as if they were old friends. Geoffrey made a nod in her direction before succumbing to Anna’s chatter.

  He fell in between the two sisters while Aubree accepted Harley’s arm to enter the tea shop. Not understanding how or why Geoffrey had come to be here in Devon, far from the civilization of London he preferred, Aubree kept silent.

  Though the two men obviously knew each other, there seemed to be a constraint between them. Geoffrey’s cousin Harry was inquired after and the length of his stay determined by the two sisters anxious to plan the summer’s activities.

  Geoffrey lifted his blond head and looked directly at Aubree as he replied to the latter question. “I shall stay for so long as I am needed here, however long that might be.”

  The directness of his stare made Aubree grit her teeth and Harley fidget restlessly, but Maria and Anna didn’t notice. A young gentleman added to their limited circle was excitement enough without looking for meanings behind words.

  Aubree had to wait until everyone had drunk their tea before she could make her excuses and rise to leave. To her relief, Harley escorted her to the street in search of her groom.

  John was already waiting outside, horses in hand. Heavy clouds had moved in overhead, and he looked relieved at her arrival.

  Harley, however, held her back a moment longer, his sympath
etic gray eyes searching her face as he spoke. “Lady Aubree, I know you were affianced to Geoff before my fiasco in Hyde Park. I cannot help but think his arrival here now is at a most inopportune time. Your husband is some five years my elder. He and I were at school or war at different times and never had the opportunity to know each other well, but I know something of his history. I cannot believe he will take kindly to Geoff’s presence. Will you give me permission to warn Geoff off? It would be better should it come from me than Heathmont.”

  Aubree contemplated his question. Once, she had used Heath to make Geoffrey jealous, and the result had been unmitigated disaster. She had no desire to turn the tables now. But Heath had not married her for love or in any expectation of staying wed, so she doubted very much if jealousy would play a part in his behavior. Pride might, however, and she did not think pride would allow him to give Harley the task of chasing off Aubree’s suitors. No, that would be a task Heath would prefer to do alone. She shook her head negatively.

  “No, Harley, you are not my brother nor my husband. It would not be proper for you to speak to Geoffrey as if you were. I doubt if I will see much of him, since I gather Heath attends very few entertainments in the area.” She smiled as she faced him. “I thank you for introducing your sisters. Whatever lies between Heath and your father, I pray we can someday set aside. I should very much like to be friends with your family.”

  He bowed over her hand. “As you will, my lady.” He straightened and a glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. “You’ll not be lacking in friends, or I miss my guess.”

  “My friends call me Aubree. I trust I will see you and your sisters again soon.” With a wave of farewell, she allowed John to assist her into the saddle. Not finding any sign of Myna, she rode off. The raven would follow at its own pace.

  The first sprinkles of rain began halfway home. A streak of black squalled from the treetops, screaming obscenities learned from the grooms in the stables where he resided. Myna landed on Aubree’s shoulder just as another rider appeared from the woods.

  Ignoring the groom and studying the raven warily, Geoffrey reined his mount into stride beside her. “We need to talk, my lady.”

  Aubree waited for Myna to quiet before replying. “I have told you before, Geoffrey, it is far and away too late for talk. You can only cause me trouble by pursuing the matter. Let us just be friends.”

  “I should hope we are that and more, Aubree.” Aware of the silent man riding behind them, Geoffrey did not elaborate further. “Will you allow me to call?”

  Aubree sent him a look of surprise that caused Myna to flap his wings in protest. “The abbey is scarcely prepared for visitors, but I should not turn you away. Have you met Heathmont?”

  “It is not Heathmont I wish to see.” Gray eyes searched her face as he slowed his horse to a walk.

  Aubree remembered the pleasant times they had shared, the jests and dances and walks together that had convinced her she might share her life with this man. A pang of sorrow crossed her face as she looked up into his troubled eyes, but more recent memories kept her course steady.

  “But it is Heathmont you must see if you wish to be friend to me,” she declared before spurring her mount to outpace him.

  The raven flew off with a squawk as she left Geoffrey behind. The bird circled the young dandy and delivered a message more forthright than his usual incoherent obscenities. John offered no assistance as he rode by the cursing young gentleman wiping at the ugly splotch upon his elegant black riding hat.

  When Heath rode into the stable that evening, his long redingote dripping from the downpour, John greeted him with his usual solemnity. The two men wiped down the steaming stallion together.

  “Well, John, did my lady lead you a merry pace today?” Heath inquired as he threw the soaked saddle across the stall frame.

  “Just to the village and back, milord.”

  Heath raised his eyebrows. “To the village? I trust she was treated with respect.” This last was said in a tone bordering on anger.

  “Of course, milord. Young Mr. Harley accompanied her, and the ladies,” he hastened to add before his employer’s black frown could spread.

  Heath’s brow cleared. “Good. Anna has a good head on her shoulders. She will keep the little witch out of trouble.”

  With a self-satisfied smile, Heath gave the stallion one last rub. “Did Harley or the ladies return with her? I may need to send them home in the carriage.”

  “No, milord, just the other young gentleman, and he returned before the storm broke.”

  “Other gentleman?”

  “Blond gent with fancy clothes,” John explained, throwing a few extra oats in the direction of the raven’s loft.

  Guessing the visitor’s identity, Heathmont strode out the door. He could not imagine the spoiled little dandy going out of his way to track Aubree down to this remote abode, particularly after she was wed. Could he have mistaken the bond between these two?

  Deciding not to jump to conclusions, Heath hurried for a roof over his head and change of clothing.

  A clatter of boots on the stairway made him look up in surprise as he entered the hall. A towheaded young boy carrying an empty pail in each hand came to a startled halt, attempted to touch his forelock, remembered the clattering pail, and made a jerky bow, before scurrying off in the direction of the kitchen. Bemused by this apparition in his front hall, Heath almost stumbled in the upper corridor at the approach of a towheaded maiden of tender years carrying an assortment of towels and soaps. When she entered the portals of his room, he had no choice but to venture on to Aubree’s.

  At his entrance, his wife flew to his side. “You’re soaking wet! Didn’t Jamie see you? I sent him to take this dreadful redingote from you.” She helped him to shrug out of the dripping layers of cloth.

  “Jamie? The tall, thin lad with pails for hands?” Heath wished for some excuse to hold her still so he could continue enjoying the soft scent of lilacs, but Aubree had already confiscated his coat and condemned it to hang at the hearth, and he had no reason to follow.

  “You did see him! I shall have to give him a talking to. He’s not accustomed to working in the house, but he’ll learn.”

  The young maid popped through the connecting door, her arms bereft of towels. “It’s all prepared, mum. Be there anythin’ else to do?”

  “The countess is addressed as ‘my lady,’ Joan. You must forget the dairy and prepare yourself for better things,” a woman older than Aubree’s young French maid instructed. “Now take the master’s wet gloves and dry them by the fire in the kitchen and tell that widgeon brother of yours to hurry back and assist his lordship. He’ll have a death of cold before you two nodcocks make the fire.”

  As the young servant scurried out with his gloves, Heath turned a questioning glance to his wife. “The twins, I presume?”

  Aubree suppressed a giggle and nodded. From beneath the bed, a long golden tail waggled, followed by a moist black nose and soulful eyes. His wife hastened to spread her skirts and perch on the edge of the bed to hide the evidence, but tired of confinement, Lady whimpered pleadingly.

  A smile tugged at Heath’s lips. “We’ve accounted for Matilda and the twins and the dog. Aren’t we missing something?”

  Brilliant green eyes grew even brighter. “You don’t mind? Lady cried so when I tried to leave her in the stables, I couldn’t bear it. She’s awfully good.” She bent over and snapped her fingers at the spaniel cowering beneath the bed. A moment later, a ball of golden fur leapt directly toward Heath’s delightful smells.

  Heath caught himself on the back of a chair and lowered into the seat so he could bend over and pet the animal. “She can scarcely do much damage to this place. The carpets were cut to rags years ago.” Which brought his gaze to the brightly colored floor covering beside her bed. She was already spending his blunt and making herself at home.

  “Oh, thank you, milord,” she cried ecstatically, throwing herself on the rug at his feet and huggin
g the spaniel. “Papa would never allow Lady in the house, and Aunt Clara did not like it. I shall teach her not to chase the kittens.” Responding to his earlier question, she turned a cheerful smile up to him. “The kittens are in the kitchen helping Patience. If there are any mice left after the carpenters leave, they will chase them off.”

  Heath relaxed, enjoying the simple pleasure of drying out before a blazing hearth while listening to the welcome chatter of a lovely woman and petting a dog at his feet. “Then Patience will have no meat to add to her stew. You had better keep close count of your kittens.”

  Aubree stared at him in disbelief, then noting the laughter in his eyes, relented. “Patience will only be delivering your meals. Your mother’s cook has agreed to cook your dinner in the Dower House. I think the kittens are safe.”

  His hand traveled of its own accord to stroke golden curls glimmering in the firelight. The rain beat against the shuttered windows, but the room was cozy and dry. “So that is how you arranged it. Those harridans my mother employs are loyal only to her and refuse to enter my portals. You must have charmed them with some Hindu chant.”

  “Only if Hindus resort to bribery. Now you must take your bath before it grows cold. Your mother is joining us for dinner, and I gather she does not like to be kept waiting.”

  Heath was reluctant to rise from his seat. His comforts had been few and far between for as long as he could remember, and this particular luxury held an attraction for him he found hard to fight. Still, he could not wallow here forever.

  Rising, he gave his hand to Aubree and helped her to her feet. “You have had a good day, then?” he asked, studying her closely.

  “A lovely one, milord. I have met Anna and Maria Sotheby,” she said. “They are everything you claimed and more.”

  “Good. Then you will have some friends to keep you occupied.” He watched her face, waiting.

  But instead of saying more, she held his hand, and smiled.

  Heath felt his heart twist in his chest at the aloof light in her eyes. He wished she had mentioned her encounter with Geoffrey, or even with Harley, but he had no right to confront her with it. He had no rights at all, except to wait for that day when he had an unsullied name and a fortune to offer her.