“In India I was accounted so, yes, but I have not yet tested my skills on English roads. Oh, yes please! I should like of all things to drive your greys. You are the most generous of men, Lord Humphrey. I cannot think of anyone else who would hand over their precious cattle to a stranger in this way. Lord Augustus would not, I wager!”
“Absolutely not! No one drives one of Gus’s teams but Gus himself. His riding mounts, yes, he is not so close-fisted with those, but never his precious matched pairs. He once called a fellow out who had the temerity merely to ask if he might try the bays. Carrbridge would not give you his curricle either — he would be terrified that you would overturn and injure yourself. As for Reggie, it would never occur to him that a lady would ever want to drive, even though his sister does. Now Monty is so sweet-natured that he would let anyone do anything, but he has never in his life owned anything faster than a hedgehog. He will be ideally situated as clergyman, for he will be able to drive everywhere at walking pace in a gig. And Gil—” He stopped, frowning. “Gil would let you do it for a lark, and then provoke the horses until you ended up in a ditch with a broken head. Miss Quayle, you must never, ever go driving with Gil, do you hear me? He is wild beyond all sense, sometimes.”
“I am not likely to have the opportunity,” she said gently. “Lord Gilbert is not here, and I shall be gone in a few days.”
Her words were like an arrow through Humphrey’s heart. A few days! He had grown so easy in her company, he had quite forgotten her visit was almost at an end. And then what was he to do? It was unthinkable to lose her now, quite intolerable. And that was the point at which he knew, beyond the faintest shadow of doubt, that his heart was irretrievably lost.
~~~~~
The excursion to Branksford Abbey was just the sort of outing most calculated to bore Humphrey to tears. Thirty-five people were to be assembled, squeezed into an array of equipages and driven at a funereal pace on bad roads. The speed was dictated by Aunt Patience and Aunt Agnes, who agreed that walking pace was the only sensible rate of progress for any conveyance, having due consideration for the comfort, security and rank of the occupants. The two disagreed about almost everything, and if one were to say the air was too hot, the other would be sure to assert that in fact it was too cold. But on this single point, they were of one mind, and therefore the carriages must proceed in stately fashion, so that all might arrive in good order at their destination, and every urchin and farmer might have ample opportunity to ogle them as they passed by.
As if this were not desperate enough for a man for whom anything less than breakneck speed is mere dawdling, there would be hours of sitting about while the ladies worried about the dampness of the grass, and whether it would rain, and the encroaching habits of bees and wasps. On one such occasion, the sighting of a cow caused an outbreak of screaming.
Then there would be the slow procession home, and inevitably one or other of the carriages would break something, or a horse would go lame, and there would be disruption and upset and general inconvenience, and like as not Humphrey would be left at the side of the road to await the arrival of the farrier or wheelwright. It was all too tedious for words.
But this present outing promised Humphrey far better entertainment. Even at the slow pace dictated by the aunts, the pleasure of Miss Quayle’s company outweighed every other nuisance. He would have a whole day at her side, and he could scarcely imagine at that moment any greater delight. In a few days, she would be gone from his life for ever, but there was no need at all to think of that yet. He would worry about that in the future, for today he was determined to be happy.
He hummed as he dressed that morning, and made no remonstrance when Billings took several attempts to fix his cravat to the valet’s satisfaction. Humphrey chose his clothes with care and liked to appear to advantage, but he normally grew impatient at too much time wasted in front of the looking glass. Today, unaccountably, he wished to look his best, and while Billings fussed over him, Humphrey speculated pleasurably on what sort of carriage dress Miss Quayle might adopt for the occasion. One of her plain companion’s gowns, or something as stylish as her riding habit?
Miss Quayle did not appear for the early breakfast enjoyed by most of the gentlemen, so it was not until the excursion party assembled in the entrance hall that Humphrey had his curiosity satisfied. He had positioned himself in a dark corner, half hidden by a Chinese urn, from which station he could watch the ladies descend the stairs, the aunts ponderously and the Miss Whittletons with girlish skips and many giggles. Then Connie and Harriet, laughing at some shared joke, with Carrbridge just behind them. And then—
A hush fell on the assembly. Two pairs of elegant boots appeared on the half landing, turning, stopping, as if to be admired. Two feet were carefully placed on the next stair and then the next, revealing the swirling hems of their gowns. Slowly, ever so slowly, the two ladies descended, Miss Blythe and Miss Quayle, arm in arm, united in friendship and in fashion. For Miss Quayle was, if anything, the more elegantly attired of the two. While Miss Blythe kept to the pale muslin appropriate for her age, Miss Quayle wore a rich ruby pelisse and matching hat of such style that even Humphrey, no expert on female attire, knew it must have cost a fortune. It was the first time she had appeared in company clad as the lady she undoubtedly was, and every head was turned her way.
By the time the pair had reached the level of the hall, Lord Kilbraith had rushed forward to claim Miss Blythe and Julius Whittleton, eyes positively bulging, was offering his arm to Miss Quayle. She smiled, shook her head, demurred. Humphrey knew his cue — stepping out of his hiding place, he crossed the hall to her side.
“Miss Quayle is to drive with me, Julius,” he murmured.
Julius spluttered, his mouth opening and closing a few times, before he wisely chose to keep silent, merely bowing and withdrawing with as much dignity as he could muster.
Humphrey had no attention to spare for him, his gaze drawn to those lustrous dark eyes that gleamed with mischief.
“Miss Quayle,” he murmured, holding his arm for her. “Shall we go outside to await the carriages?”
“Lord Humphrey,” she said, curtsying demurely, then lifting her head to reveal a wide grin. Such inviting lips she had, and despite his height, she was almost near enough to kiss…
Then she lowered her head and took his arm and, mesmerised, he led her past the silently watching throng, past the footmen swinging open the doors, and down the broad steps to the drive. Several carriages waited there already, as well as two barouches and the first of the curricles. The horses tossed their heads impatiently as grooms did their best to hold them steady, while footmen rushed about with hot bricks and rugs, opening doors, unfolding steps, rushing back to assist Uncle Thomas and Aunt Theodosia out of the house and into their carriage.
Just then, Humphrey’s curricle bowled round the corner from the stable court with Tom at the reins.
“Ah!” Miss Quayle said. Humphrey thought her smile could not stretch any wider, yet it did.
“Your conveyance, madam,” he said, with a little bow. “May I assist you aboard?”
“Thank you, but I can manage.” And with that she nimbly climbed up onto the seat and took the reins from Tom, who jumped down to hold the horses’ heads. Turning to Humphrey, she said, “Will you join me, my lord?”
That smile again! If she had asked him to dance a reel instead, he suspected he would have obeyed her just as readily. He took his seat beside her, and folded his arms. “We shall have a while to wait, I daresay. It always takes forever to get the aunts settled.”
“Must we stay?” She turned those great eyes on him in entreaty. “The horses are fresh and I cannot wait to get onto the road. Would it be a great breach of protocol for us to go on ahead?”
Humphrey did not hesitate. “Yes, but I dare you to do it anyway.”
She burst into laughter. “Tom, stand away!” Then with a snick of the whip, she set the curricle into motion, Tom leapt up behind and they were b
owling away down the drive, leaving astonishment and pointing fingers in their dust.
~~~~~
Hortensia could not suppress a beaming grin. Worse than that, she was actually laughing in delight. Oh, the pleasure of having two fine horses at her command, and a splendid vehicle to tool about in. The amusement of setting off before any of the others added spice to the day. She would have to do penance for it later, she knew, for here everything revolved around rank. The marquess’s carriage should have gone first, and then, no doubt, the guests, the aunts and uncles, and the young people at the back of the long procession. It was not so in India, where a spirited young lady driving her own curricle was permitted a degree of indulgence.
Here, as a mere companion, she should be subservient, know her place, always hang back. Oh, she was so tired of hanging back! So tired of being meek, demure companion Miss Rosemary Quayle, instead of outspoken heiress Miss Hortensia Blythe. How she longed to confess, and yet, how awkward it was to admit to such an outrageous deception. So much easier to drift along and hope for the best, and enjoy the attentions of a man who was gloriously ignorant of her true situation.
They rattled down the drive at a rapid pace, the horses still fresh and pressing to go faster. She held them in check, not sure how far they had to go. Beside her, Lord Humphrey said nothing, but every time she stole a glance at him, she saw him grinning from ear to ear, just as she was. He was so much fun! Not in the least stuffy, not like some of these society people. He never stood on ceremony with her, and treated her with such ease, as if they were equals. So handsome, and that smile… those eyes that looked at her as if she were the only woman in the world… and his voice, when he lowered it to speak confidentially, warmed her to the soles of her feet. How easily she had fallen in love with him, after all these years when she had been quite heart-free. And he loved her, she was sure of it now. She could not mistake the glow of ardour in his eyes! He loved her, thinking her nothing but a companion, loved her solely for herself. Happiness bubbled up inside her, making her want to laugh and cry and sing for joy.
Of course, as long as he believed her penniless, there was no question of marriage, but if he knew her to be wealthy… But she must not let her emotions get the better of her, not today. She must use her head, and think what must be done. But it was so difficult when he looked at her just that way. When she stole a glance at him, his head was turned towards her.
“This is fun, is it not?” His laugh spun itself around her like a web.
“Have I shocked all your relations?” she said, slowing the horses to a walk at the end of the long drive, as two children from the lodge rushed to open the gates for them.
“Oh, I do hope so. Not for driving off in this way, for it is exactly what Harriet used to do, and Gil certainly would if he were here. No, I expect they are horrified to see a mere companion as fashionably dressed as her mistress — and more fashionably dressed than the other ladies today. You outshine them all and that is an unforgivable sin in one so lowly.”
“Ah, but you see today I am not lowly, nor am I hiding away in a dark corner. I am driving two beautiful steppers in a fine curricle, and it is incumbent upon me to rise to the occasion and do them justice. Today, I am not Miss Quayle, a mere companion. Today I am…” She stopped herself in time.
“Yes?” he said politely. “And who are you?”
“Someone else entirely,” she said quickly. She focused her attention on the horses, chiding herself for being so careless. She had almost let her secret slip! It was to be hoped that Lord Humphrey had noticed nothing odd in her manner.
“That will not do.” To her relief, his tone was light. “You must have a name. Let me see, to drive a bang-up outfit like this, you must be very rich, I should think. Someone of importance.”
This was getting onto dangerous ground. Did he suspect? He was quick-witted, there was no doubt about it. It was very necessary to divert him in a safer direction. “I am a lady,” she said. “I think… yes, today I am Lady Anne.”
He chuckled. “Very well, Lady Anne it shall be. But you must have a family name, my lady.”
“Lady Anne… Dunhiding.”
That made him laugh so much she feared he might fall out of the curricle altogether. They came into the village, so for a while she concentrated on managing the greys, avoiding unwary walkers crossing the road as well as other vehicles.
“And your father, my lady?” he said, as soon as they were clear of the village again.
“He is… the Duke of West Riding,” she said. “His ancestor came over with the Conqueror—”
“Naturally!”
“—and slew one thousand, three hundred and forty seven Saxons with his own hand. He was rewarded with his dukedom, and since then his descendants have lived a blameless, if idle, life on the proceeds.”
Lord Humphrey laughed again. “You have a wonderful imagination, my lady, although I am disappointed at the lack of scandals in your family. All great families have their little secrets. But now I must match you, and not be myself today. Who am I? Let me think… I know! I am Jem, your faithful and devoted retainer. I am the gamekeeper’s son—”
“Oh no, that is not near romantic enough.” She paused to negotiate at speed past a farmer’s cart, while Lord Humphrey exchanged friendly greetings. “I should like to have brought you as a slave from the West Indies to have as my page boy, only to set you free later from compassion, but you are too pale complexioned for that. I have it — you are the chimney-sweep’s boy, who became stuck in chimneys at… um, Castle Dunhiding at the age of three. I rescued you from your cruel employer and so you became my faithful retainer.”
“The chimneys at Castle Dunhiding must be exceptionally narrow if a three-year-old boy can become stuck.”
“You were very well grown for your age,” she responded solemnly.
That brought another chuckle. “I see. So I have been in your employ since I was three, and now I am quite indispensable to you. I accompany you everywhere you go, and have frequently been obliged to see off the most persistent and annoying of your many suitors by drawing their corks.”
“Oh, how splendidly chivalrous!” she cried. “But now I feel it would be better for you to be a gentleman, so that you may challenge these scoundrels to duels. Perhaps you are secretly the son of an earl?”
“Do you know, I have always thought a duel the most damnably silly business,” Lord Humphrey said. “Meeting at dawn, and trying to kill a man for the most frivolous of reasons, sometimes, and then perhaps having to flee the country afterwards. I had much sooner have a good mill with the fellow on the spot, if it is all the same to you, my lady.”
That was so much of a piece with the straightforward nature of the man that she must approve it. “Very well, Jem, you shall not be a gentleman after all. But your accent! I must have been an indulgent employer indeed to have paid for you to attend the finest educational establishments.”
“Nay, milady, ’twere not so. I were only taught me letters the t’village school, like.”
“That is much better. You must know your place, Jem, and not ape your betters.”
“No, milady. Won’t ’appen again, milady.”
And in this delightfully nonsensical way, they beguiled away the miles to Branksford Abbey.
12: Branksford Abbey
They were so far ahead of the others that they had time for a lengthy detour over the moors. Even so, when Hortensia turned the greys in through the gate of the abbey grounds and brought them slowly to a halt, they were still the first to arrive. The servants’ wagons stood nearby, with the horses tethered in the shade. Near the abbey, the pavilion was but half erected, as footmen wrestled with the canvas, and housemaids scurried about with rugs and chairs.
Branksford Abbey was a fine ruin, the walls mostly intact and only the roof missing. It was situated beside a lake and surrounded by meadows sheltered by banks of woodland, and in every particular was ideal for a party of pleasure-bound people to spend a summer�
��s day. It was a lovely, tranquil spot, but all Hortensia could feel at that moment was sorrow that her drive was over, for no doubt Lord Humphrey would want to drive home. She sat, reins in hand, gazing unseeingly at the beauty before her, before turning to Lord Humphrey.
“Thank you!” she said in heartfelt tones.
“Thank you!” he said, at the same moment, so that they both laughed.
“Why are you thanking me?” she said, still smiling. “It is I who must thank you for the pleasure of driving your magnificent horses. No matter what the rest of the day brings, I shall always account it one of the most memorable of my life.”
“I thank you for the enjoyment of watching such an expert with the whip. If you were a man, I should not hesitate to put you up for the Four-Horse Club. You do drive four-in-hand, I take it? I am sure you do.”
His confidence in her skill made her blush. “I do, yes. You pay me such splendid compliments, Lord Humphrey. Most gentlemen content themselves with a comment about a lady’s looks or gown or skill upon the pianoforte, but I greatly prefer your flattery.”
“It is hardly flattery when it is the absolute truth.” His eyes shone so warmly as he spoke, that she blushed again. Why did this man have such an effect on her? She, who never blushed and inwardly despised any man who addressed such flummery to her — yet her heart somersaulted when he talked in that low, intimate tone. Love… love rendered the most sensible person foolish. It certainly made her foolish. But she must not be beguiled by him, for it meant nothing. Even if he loved her, he would never offer for her if he believed her penniless. But if he knew the truth, her heart whispered… what then?
To distract herself from such nonsensical thoughts, she said, “Look, the others are arriving now. Although… why are they coming from that direction?”
Sons of the Marquess Collection Page 32