“Oh, do let us make up a party and all go down to Kent to see Tony and Virginia!” exclaimed Penelope. “I have not seen them since they’ve returned. We have been in correspondence, though. She gave birth to a little girl while they were in America.”
“Capital notion,” said Beau. “I’ll fix it up with Strangeways. Perhaps we can go down at the weekend. I still have a few briefings at the FO I need to attend.”
“Good. Then that is settled, if it sits well with Virginia,” Penelope said, turning to her brother-in-law. “Ernest, I’m afraid that Lady Deveridge, Arabella, Beau, and I have already committed to a dinner party. Had we had more notice of your coming today, we would never have accepted,” said Penelope.
“That’s all right. I’ll dine at my club. I’m sure Darvish will be there. My first officer. Home’s up north. He’s not leaving until tomorrow.”
* * *
Since Beau and most of his friends frequented Brooks’s, he had put Ernest up for membership there, and Ernest spent many an evening at the club when he was home. Though the institution was partial to Whigs, Ernest had no politics and therefore didn’t mind one way or the other. He supposed he ought to be a member of White’s, as they were far more military minded, but membership at Brooks’s ran in the family.
He found his first officer, Hugh Darvish, eating a solitary dinner and joined him.
“One consolation about being ashore is that the food is better,” Darvish greeted him.
“That is true.” Ernest ordered lamb chops and a bottle of claret from the hovering waiter. “There are also women,” he added once the waiter had gone. Into his mind flashed the image of the lovely Lady Deveridge. “I disremember. Did you ever meet Lord Deveridge? The explorer? We ran into him in Alexandria a couple of times.”
“Who could forget Deveridge? Never knew a more enthusiastic fellow.”
“He died three years ago,” said Ernest. “I met his widow today. She’s staying at the house for the Season.”
“Aha!” said Darvish with a knowing grin.
“No aha about it. She dislikes me.”
Looking astonished, Darvish set down his cutlery. “You don’t say? Any idea why?”
“Not the least. By the by, I’m going down to Kent this weekend to look at some horses. Did you ever hear tell of Viscount Strangeways’s stud outfit?”“Old Lord Strangeways?”
“Yes. It’s been taken over by his son. I figure I need some expert advice after all my years at sea.”
They talked about horses over dinner and then returned to women over their brandy.
“So what’s she like, this Lady Deveridge?” asked Darvish.
“An absolute stunner. Thirtyish. She has twins. Twelve years old. The boy’s at Eton, but the daughter is a little minx. She took one look at me and proposed marriage!”
Darvish laughed, settling back in his chair in his easy manner. “Did you accept?”
“We managed to put off the nuptials until her come out.”
His friend grinned, giving his face the particularly sweet expression that falsely assured women of his pliant nature. “How do you know the mother doesn’t like you?”
“Antarctica was warmer,” Ernest said.
“Hmm. I’ll bet you can melt her. Shall we have a wager?”
“In the ordinary course of events, I’d take you up on it. But she’s no debutante. I expect she knows her mind.”
“Pity.”
Ernest was suddenly annoyed at the topic. “It is that. Shall we have some vingt-et-un?”
* * *
Arabella’s Season proceeded with the force of a typhoon. It seemed that she and the rest of the family had an invitation every night. His sister had grown quite lovely with her blonde curls and merry smile. The animation which had always characterized her features enlivened her demeanor, netting her many suitors. He hoped that disappointment would never dampen her characteristic openness.
When it was known that Ernest was at home, a note was sent round to include him in the family’s invitation to a ball to be given Thursday night before their journey into Kent. Beau’s man, Edwards, took every possible care with Ernest’s toilette. His hair was cut, his favorite dress white uniform was pressed, he was shaved for the second time that day, and a prodigious amount of time was spent barbering his hair.
“You look a rare treat, Captain,” Edwards said.
“Thank you. I haven’t been this tidy since I was last in your care.”
His first glimpse of Lady Deveridge dazzled him. She was arrayed in silver with rubies in her white-blonde hair, her ears, and around her neck. Ernest watched as his brother assisted her with a red velvet evening cloak.
“You are looking very fine,” he said.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, her voice matching the night air in degree of coolness.
At the ball, he forbore asking her to dance, guessing she might make an excuse to refuse him. Instead, he made merry with a quantity of ladies who seemed more than happy to welcome home a wealthy sea captain. However, when he was not dancing, he found himself observing Lady Deveridge. She was not at all reserved with other people but quite lively. She bestowed a kind smile on everyone, it seemed, down to the most callow youth. Also, he noticed there was nothing of the flirt in her manner.
In his experience, great beauties normally teased and taunted and were not generally known for their kindness. Perhaps he should not expect customary behavior in her case. Her coolness seemed to be reserved for him.
What did she find objectionable about him?
The evening was enjoyable, but as he climbed into bed at three o’clock in the morning, he felt quite empty. He missed the particular camaraderie of sea life, he told himself. Some might tire of the same company day after day, but he thrived on the opportunity to have true and deep friendships with his officers. There was nothing like the heat of battle or a long voyage to forge trustworthy bonds. He was fond of his brothers and sister, but it wasn’t the same.
Hopefully the trip to the country tomorrow would be diverting.
* * *
Ernest loved the sea, but there was nothing more lovely than the colors displayed by an English countryside in the spring. The new green of the forests was like a mist interspersed with the pink and white of flowering trees. The grass was emerald, dotted with newly shorn sheep. Hedgerows were alive with wildflowers in a riot of colors, and the lilacs were heavy with scent.
As they drove up the poplar-lined avenue to Southbrooke Manor, Lord Strangeways’s residence, Ernest felt his spirits rise. He and Beau rode alongside the carriage while Lady Deveridge, Arabella, Gweet, Penelope, and Sam rode inside the large equipage that was emblazoned with the Wellingham crest. Another carriage followed with the luggage and servants.
It was enjoyable to see Strangeways and his wife again. Last time he had furlough they had been off in America. The viscount had always seemed to have a droll, carefree manner, and Ernest had been surprised by the obvious devotion he displayed toward his American wife.
“How were the colonies?” he asked, teasing Lady Strangeways.
“Still a republic, no matter Britain’s efforts to subdue us,” she replied.
Her little mixed Scottish terrier, Mr. Hale (named for a famous American patriot), raced around and through Ernest’s legs. At the same time the lady held up her daughter, Angelique, for him to inspect. As she was red faced and fussy, anything complimentary would obviously be insincere. He never knew what to say about an infant.
“She has her father’s temperament, I see,” he said.
“I agree,” laughed Penelope. “But she is a very pretty baby.” Holding out her arms, she took the child from Virginia and began coaxing her into a contented state. Lady Deveridge, looking splendid in peacock blue, parted the baby’s blanket and convinced the child to put her fingers around one of her own.
“There is nothing more intriguing than a new baby,” she said. “What is your potential, little Angelique? What wonders will you see in you
r lifetime?”
Gweet showed little interest in the child, instead choosing to inspect the coat of armor that stood in the hall. Arabella was only too happy to give the girl a history lesson about the old and venerable Strangeways family.
During tea, Ernest got right to business, asking after Tony’s brother, Howard Gibson. “I understand your brother has taken over the stud.”
“Yes, and he’s as happy as a grig,” said Tony. “He also watched over the estate while we were gone. Most probably he was hoping we’d decide to stay in America!”
They spoke about Tony’s favorable impression of the States and Lady Strangeways’s sadness that she had become persona non grata in her old neighborhood after freeing her slaves.
All the while, Ernest was aware of Lady Deveridge conversing quietly with Lady Strangeways on their sofa before the fire. She was the most graceful creature, with slender white hands, a long white neck, and stunning blue eyes full of good humor—except when she looked at him! He could hardly keep his eyes off her. But then taking tea with ladies was far different than dining in the officers’ mess on board ship. Instead of plain scones they had dainty teas cakes, frosted with sugar icing. There was also a variety of crustless sandwiches, and porcelain cups instead of serviceable mugs.
Of course she appealed to him—she was an elegant lady, and he had been out of sight of elegant ladies for the last eighteen months. His attraction was certainly nothing noteworthy. He must take himself in hand.
When the tea tray was taken away, Ernest asked, “Mind if I go out to the stables to have a word with Gibson?”
Tony asked, “You remember where the stables are?”
“Yes,” said Ernest. “They are behind the house.”
The air was still brisk outside and redolent of sweet spring flowers and turned soil. Strangeways had an informal English garden growing profusely in front of the house. Walking around the east wing, he began to scent horses.
Gibson had obviously added on to the stables. There were upwards from a dozen stalls and two large corrals. Three fillies and two foals cavorted in one of them. A broad-shouldered, brown-haired man dressed like a stable hand approached him.
“You must be Captain Saunders,” he said. “Tony said you were coming with the Wellinghams today.”
“Yes.” Ernest held out his hand. “And you are Mr. Howard Gibson, manager of this fine operation.”
“Gibson will do. I’m glad you wasted no time finding the best part of Southbrooke!”
“I’m in the market for a horse. I would be happy to have your advice.”
“Are you looking for a race horse?”
“Not at the moment. Though I may be in the market for one sometime in the future. I understand you have a promising entry for the King’s Plate.”
“He’s a bit off just now, coming off the Spring Meetings at Epsom Downs. Didn’t even place. I have the vet coming, as a matter of fact. I think he’s been ill. He’s showing a bit of improvement since we brought him home. Would you like to see him?”
“Very much.”
Gibson led the way to a stall away from the other stock. “I have him in quarantine in case he’s ill. Name’s Virginia’s Prize.”
Ernest recognized the horse as a splendid thoroughbred. He was a chestnut with a white star on his forehead and white stockings.
He ran a hand over the beauty’s neck. “Is the coat a bit rough?” he asked.
“It is,” said Gibson. “No shine. It’s part of what worries me.”
“He’s a glorious horse. I hope you can get him in shape for Newmarket. When’s the race?”
“Two weeks. Normally I wouldn’t have moved him from Epsom between races, but I need him where I can keep an eye on him.” Gibson stroked the horse’s back.
“I wish you luck. Do you just have breeding stock here?”
“I’ve got a couple of retired race horses I’m using as studs, but I’ve got a yearling you might like. I don’t think he has the temperament for a race horse, but he should have no trouble meeting your needs.” Gibson walked out of the stall toward the main part of the stable, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll show you.”
Before Ernest could follow, he saw Gweet running toward him. “Mr. Gibson, Captain Saunders! I came to see the horses.”
When she reached him, he said, “Good. You can give me your opinion.”
“Are you going to buy one?” she asked, eyes glowing.
“Possibly. What do you have there?” He indicated what looked like a letter in her hand.
“Oh, I almost forgot. This is for Mr. Gibson.”
Together they walked into the stable where Gibson awaited them. He had begun to curry a young black stallion.
“You must be Miss Marguerite,” he said. “What have you got there?”
“It’s an urgent letter for you. It came by courier.”
Gibson’s eyebrows rose. “Hmm. Can’t imagine.” Taking the envelope, he begged their pardon, opened it immediately, and scanned the contents.
He frowned. “The devil! Excuse me, Gweet, Captain. I’ve urgent business in Epsom Downs Racecourse. I must get off as soon as may be.”
“Not bad news, I hope,” said Ernest.
“I’m afraid it is. One of my jockeys has passed away. He rides Virginia’s Prize, as a matter of fact. My informant says foul play is suspected.”
Ernest stifled a curse as Gweet was standing near. “Bad luck. Go, then. We’ll talk later.”
Gweet settled her hand in Ernest’s as Gibson ran off in the direction of the house. “Can we stop and look at the newborn colts and fillies for a minute?”
“All right. But we can’t go into the corral.”
Standing up next to the rough enclosure, Gweet held out a carrot. A black colt came rushing toward her. She fed him with one hand and stroked his muzzle with the other. “Sweet thing,” she said.
“I don’t think any self-respecting colt would like to be called sweet. Handsome, maybe.”
“I am going to call him Teddy,” she informed him.
“Do you have horses at home?” he asked.
“Yes. One of Mama’s hobbies is training them in dressage. She has won cups at some horse shows. When I was little I had a pony named Salt. Warrie had one called Pepper. But we’re too big for them now. Uncle Bertie has promised to buy me a proper horse, but I have to wait until he returns from the Continent.”
He would not have expected the exquisite Lady Deveridge to be horsey. But then he didn’t know her at all. He had a suspicion she was complex, unlike the women he usually favored. Getting to know her would be a challenge. But then he had six months, hadn’t he?
Was he ready to take up that sort of challenge? Perhaps it would be better to stick to horses.
“Captain Saunders?” The girl’s face was scrunched up in puzzlement.
“Yes?”
“Why doesn’t Mama like you?”Taken aback, he only just managed to keep a straight face. “I really have no idea. If you find out, will you tell me?”
“I already asked her. She said it was grown-up business.”
Ernest decided there and then that he was up for the challenge of Lady Deveridge. He would think on it. There must be some way he could overcome her dislike.
Chapter Three
Marianne had known Tony for years as her brother’s dear friend. Tony, Beau, and Bertie formed a tight group that had taken on the world together ever since Oxford days. She knew Virginia, Tony’s wife, less well, but she admired her for the way she had overcome adversity in her life. A fire had taken her American home and both her parents several years before. She had been obliged to make her home in England with her uncle right in the middle of the two-year war with America.
“So, Marianne, what do you think of our Captain Ernest?” Virginia asked as they arranged flowers together in Southbrooke Manor’s stillroom.
She answered, “There’s a bit too much of him. He’s quite an overwhelming personage. But Gweet is intent on marrying him.”
“I’m not surprised,” Virginia said with a laugh. “He performed a great service for me in the past, which I am not at liberty to discuss, unfortunately. He is actually a very kind man.”
“Good. I shouldn’t let Gweet marry anyone who would mistreat her,” she said with a smile.
Virginia persisted. “You could not be interested in him yourself?”
“The last person I would marry would be a sea captain,” she said. “I’ve had my fill of absent husbands. I would rather do without. Are you and Penny matchmaking?”
“It was just an idea we had. We’d like you to be a member of the ‘family,’ so to speak. But on second thought, I can see where you might object to our choice.”
“I am certain he is a perfectly lovely man. Just not the right one for me.”
* * *
At dinner, Marianne learned that the captain’s desire to purchase a horse had been temporarily interrupted by Tony’s brother’s summons to Epsom Downs.
“I think it is absolutely thrilling that he owns race horses!” she said.
“You are a devotee of the racetrack, Lady Deveridge?” asked the captain.
She could not help chuckling. “My family can tell you, I love anything to do with horses. I have since I was little. I know it goes against type. I convey the image of a homebody.”
“I would not say that exactly.”
She looked up and saw that Captain Saunders had a twinkle in his eye. He was definitely flirting with her. Turning to Virginia on her right, she said the first thing she could think of. “You talked much of the slave who was your nanny and saved you from the fire. Were you able to find her when you were back in America?”
“I was!” said Virginia. “I freed her, but I now employ her to be Angelique’s nanny. I am so happy to be with her again.”
“How wonderful,” said Marianne. “I should love to meet her. I imagine her to be a very heroic figure.”
“She is,” Virginia assured her. “And, bless her heart, she is adapting well to the English countryside. London, I am not so sure of.” Her hostess looked momentarily perplexed but then said, “I will take you up to the nursery to meet her tomorrow. Gweet is quite fascinated with her, by the way. But they can scarcely understand each other! It is rather comic.”
Love Unexpected: A Regency Romance (The Saunders Family Saga Book 1) Page 2