by Tinnean
My stomach rumbled loudly, and I chuckled; I was also hungry.
I rose, washed, and changed into at-home clothing. I’d need to see to the harvest today, and a cravat simply wouldn’t do, and so I selected a silken handkerchief I’d received on my last birthday. As I stood before the mirror and knotted it about my neck, I beheld a young man who appeared, for the first time, at peace with the world.
I gave the ends of the handkerchief a final tug and winked at my reflection. I looked rather dashing. Would Geo think so too?
Whistling, I made my way downstairs.
Everyone was already gathered in the morning room by the time I got there, and they fell silent when I entered the room, leaving me to wonder if I had been the topic of discussion.
“Good morning! Beg pardon for being late, Aunt.” But my eyes were on Geo. I offered him a smile.
He said nothing, sparing me only a brief glance before returning to his breakfast, and I faltered.
Was he regretting the time we had spent together in bed? Was I at fault? Had I disappointed him?
David bustled in, bearing steaming platters of fluffy baked eggs and fat sausages that were done to a turn. “Shall I serve you, sir?”
“No.” I stiffened my upper lip. “Thank you, no, David. Just leave them on the sideboard; I’ll help myself.”
“Yes, Sir Ashton.” He did as I requested, then poured me a cup of chocolate and retreated back to the kitchen.
I limped to my seat. Aunt Cecily noticed and hastily averted her gaze. With my uncle almost a fortnight in his grave, I wondered to what she ascribed my limp. The first and only time the subject had been brought up was shortly after I’d come to stay at Laytham Hall. She had observed my hesitant gait and inquired about it, asking if I’d taken a tumble from my pony, and I’d told her frankly that Sir Eustace had taken his cane to me. She’d raised her handkerchief to her mouth, sick and pale, and tottered from the room; she did not ask again.
“You were conversing about something when I came in.” I set down my laden plate, took my seat, and sliced my sausages with the utmost concentration and precision. “Please don’t let me interrupt your conversation.”
“I was just telling dear Geo that you are usually so very punctual, Ashton,” Aunt Cecily remarked, and I glanced up. So they had been discussing me. The smile on her lips was not reflected in her eyes.
“Yes,” Arabella interrupted. “You were quite the slug-a-bed this morning, Ashton.” She raised her cup to her lips and sipped daintily, then turned to Geo. “Why, more often than not he is finishing his breakfast just as Aunt Cecy and I, poor females that we are, are coming down. He puts us all to shame!”
Geo raised an eyebrow, but again he said nothing.
I ignored her spiteful tone. Indeed, I ignored her entire little speech and instead replied to Aunt Cecily. “Mr. Ruston sent for me. Beauty chose last night to foal, Aunt.”
“Ah. A satisfactory delivery, Ashton?”
“Eminently so. A filly, and it looks as if she might well take after her sire. Coal black, with white stockings. A little beauty, if I may say so.”
Aunt Cecily chuckled, which surprised me somewhat. She didn’t usually find my attempts at humor amusing.
Arabella, on the other hand, looked a trifle green. She had wandered in on a birth going wrong when she was a child. The results had been unhappy for everyone concerned: both mare and foal had died, and Arabella had dissolved into hysterics.
She sniffed, pointedly turning up her nose at my words. “I was about to tell Mr. Stephenson how… how one of my beaux had promised to ride ventre à terre to rescue me from a fate worse than death!”
“Arabella!” For once, Aunt Cecily sounded shocked by her ward’s words.
“Yes, Aunt Cecy?” responded Miss Innocence.
Did she even know what a fate worse than death entailed? From over my spectacles I regarded her with some amusement, but held my tongue, buttering a slice of toast instead.
She saw my glance, however, and bristled. “Do you not think William would ride like the wind to rescue me if I was in any sort of danger?” she sneered, so angry with me she forgot to be angry with her absent lover. “Would you do that for anyone? Would anyone do that for you?”
I touched my napkin to my lips. “No,” I said, answering the latter question. “I don’t imagine so.”
She asked archly of Geo, “You would ride like the wind if the one you cared about was in any sort of danger, wouldn’t you, Mr. Stephenson?”
This was 1834. What sort of danger could she be in? I couldn’t help wondering how he’d respond to such arrant nonsense. After all, it was only some hours earlier that he’d labeled her a tiresome chit.
“But of course, Miss Arabella. Especially if she were as charming as you!” He smiled at her, apparently finding her neither quite so tiresome nor her words so nonsensical.
My appetite vanished; I crumpled my napkin and started to rise from my seat. “If you’ll excuse me? The harvest….”
“And I was just wondering what the plans for today might be.” Geo’s words brought me to a halt, and I sank back down.
“Plans?” I hadn’t given any thought to entertaining him. Not during the day, at any rate.
“If that isn’t just like you, Awful!” Arabella didn’t appear to notice the sudden frown that creased Geo’s forehead, although it gave me a flicker of hope. If he did not like her calling me that, perhaps I had simply imagined the coolness between us. “One must entertain one’s guests, you know!”
I had no friends in the surrounding area, and none from my days at Eton had ever come to visit at Laytham Hall. I’d never been permitted to visit because reciprocal visits might be required, and Sir Eustace flatly refused to allow the drain on his purse.
Somehow, however, the Hoods had had the wherewithal to pay those visits, and Aunt Cecily had arranged for their friends to spend some time here as well while her husband was either in London or at the shooting boxes to which his occasional friends would invite him.
“Of… of course one must.” I’d send a message round to Giffard informing him he’d have to see to the hops himself for today. “I’m at your service, Geo.” Color rose to my hairline, and I cleared my throat. “Perhaps….” The hunting season wouldn’t start for another few months, and I had no idea if the injury to his leg even permitted him to ride, but…. “Perhaps you would care to try your hand fishing in our stream? We have some very fine trout, and I’m sure Cook would have no objection to preparing your catch for dinner this evening.”
“I don’t fish.”
“Oh! I….” I felt as if he’d struck me. “I beg your pardon.” So I hadn’t imagined that coolness. Yet what had I done to incur his displeasure?
“St. Andrew’s Church in Farnham is quite interesting,” Aunt Cecily mused, unaware of my distress. “It dates back to the Conquest, I believe, and can be reached in less than an hour’s time without pushing one’s team. I think you might enjoy seeing it, dear Geo.”
“I’d like to go too!” Arabella announced, fluttering her lashes at Geo. “Please say I may, Aunt Cecy!”
I wanted to smack her, but Aunt Cecily smiled beneficently.
“Of course, my dear. I am not up to making the drive, and Ashton, I’m sure you have other things to do, so of course I shan’t press you to go….”
“Very well, Aunt.”
“However, while I’m sure dear Geo will take excellent care of you, you will take the girl Flowers is training as your maid with you.” Was she playing matchmaker?
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.” “Dear Geo” smiled blandly, and I ground my teeth. I wanted to smack him as well. He appeared to be as fascinated with Arabella’s golden hair and blue eyes as John had been with… another.
Would no one ever be fascinated with me?
“If you’ll excuse me?” I set my napkin on my plate, rose, and stiffly walked from the room, appalled that I should be prey to such a maudlin thought.
This
situation really wasn’t much different from what I had had before: a man who wanted me for the pleasure I could bring him, but who didn’t want me—Ashton Laytham—not really. I would not let myself forget this again.
The door had barely closed behind me before it was opened again. “One moment, Ashton. I would like to speak with you.”
I squashed the sudden burst of hope. I had to remember, before I did something so foolish as to give my heart away again, that I merely represented a way for him to collect a debt of £10,000.
“We had better be private, then.” I led the way to Sir Eustace’s—to my study. It was best to get this over with quickly, whatever this was.
“You’re limping.”
“I am quite all right, I assure you, sir.” I stood aside to let him enter before me.
“Are you? You were exceptionally tight.”
“Indeed. Simply because it’s been some time.”
“But the jar—”
“Was not for me.” I shrugged indifferently. “I do hope you weren’t too severely disappointed, dear boy. I promise to do better in future, if you’re still interested?”
“Whatever gave you the idea I was losing interest, Ashton?”
Perhaps it was the matter that he was no longer calling me “Ash.” Perhaps it was that he suddenly appeared to be more interested in Arabella than in me.
I hunched a shoulder and refused to address any of that. Instead, feeling the need to put some distance between us, I took a seat at my desk and fell back on my years of being the Hoods’ bête noire, and made my tone as supercilious and disagreeable as I could. “In that case, I believe we should assign a fee schedule so that we know the cost of each act.”
“I. Beg. Your. Pardon?”
“Were my words unclear? It’s quite simple, sir. I am doing this in an effort to reduce my uncle’s indebtedness to you. Therefore, each act—”
“Enough. I understand you, sir.”
“I was sure you would, for you haven’t struck me as being lack-witted.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I? It would scarcely do for me to name a figure, dear boy. After all, I could set last night’s activities at £10,000, and then where would we be?” The condescension in my voice had caused Robert Hood to raise a threatening hand to me often and often, and I waited to see how Geo would respond to it.
“You enjoyed what I did to you last night.” He frowned at me.
“Yes, I do not deny that, and I thank you most sincerely. I have no doubt you could have made it deuced unpleasant for me. However,” I continued with all the disdain I could muster, “I do not intend to spend the rest of my life in servitude to you.”
He was silent for a long moment, the line of his mouth pale and tight. Then he said, “Very well, since it seems you wish to haggle like a fishmonger, these are my conditions. I shall come to Laytham Hall at week’s end each week and spend a total of three nights here. You will take no other to your bed.”
“Needless to say, that would not apply to you.”
His eyes narrowed, somehow darkened, and he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I will set the price of £2 upon each night.”
“Each night?” My mouth went dry.
“I believe that is what I said.”
“But that’s… that would be….” My mind scrambled trying to do the sums.
He studied his fingernails, the epitome of indifference. “A trifle more than thirty-one years.”
Good God, we’d be as good as leg-shackled! I stared at him, nonplussed. “But… suppose nothing happens during the night?”
“I don’t believe that will be a matter of concern.”
I continued to stare at him, dumbfounded.
“Do you really consider yourself to hold such little attraction?”
“It would be unbecoming in me to respond to that, sir.”
“And you are very becoming.”
“Geo?”
He turned away, all business. “I am afraid you have no choice, dear boy. By the bye, I’ve written a message to Kincaid, my man, telling him to pack some things for the both of us.” He placed a folded sheet of paper on the desk before me. “You will oblige me by seeing to this, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Did my voice sound as hollow to him as it did to me?
“Splendid.” He drew out a timepiece from the pocket of his waistcoat. “I must be toddling along. I do not wish to keep Miss Arabella waiting.”
“One further question, sir.” He paused at the door, his eyebrow raised. I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes any longer and dropped my gaze to my fingers as they knotted together upon my desk. “Do you mean to pay your addresses to her?”
“Hmmm. That might well give me the perfect excuse to visit….” I felt myself turn cold. “But no, dear boy. I believe I told you my preferences do not run to girls, green or otherwise.”
Did he loathe hearing himself addressed as “dear boy” as much as I did? “Then what reason will you give Aunt Cecily to explain your return each week?”
“Why, I’ll simply tell her I bring word from the Pater. I believe that should please both of them inordinately.” An ironic smile, and the door closed behind him.
With a faint moan, I buried my head in my hands. As he’d walked out the door, I’d been unable to tear my eyes away from his arse.
Dear God, what was I letting myself in for?
“Ashton.”
“Aunt Cecily.” I was on my way to my room when our paths crossed in the Great Hall.
“You weren’t looking for Geo by any chance, were you?”
“No, I—”
“He has gone outside to await Arabella,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I told her not to keep him waiting too long, for while gentlemen may be patient for a short time, they do not appreciate keeping their horses standing. Is it not kind of the dear man to offer to take her to St. Andrew’s? The poor child has been in the dismals. This outing should be just the thing to raise her spirits.” She fussed with the scrap of linen tucked into her sleeve. “I knew you would not mind being excluded. After all, two is company, as I’m sure you know.” And she gave me an arch smile.
“Aunt, you cannot still be matchmaking!”
Her smile vanished. “Please don’t be vulgar.” She sniffed. “As if I would do such a thing! You know very well that it was my fondest hope that Arabella and William would make a match of it.”
“Well, yes.”
“However, you must admit that with dearest Marian’s boys… away, we must needs accept Arabella cannot wait forever for William. I rather like the notion of Geo and Arabella forming an alliance, joining our two families.”
She expected Geo to be William’s replacement? “Isn’t it rather soon, Aunt?” She waved that aside as inconsequential, and I tried once more. “After all, they’ve only just met.”
“Immaterial, Ashton.”
I ground my teeth and considered the gentlemen in the neighborhood. Was there anyone to whom I could marry Arabella off, preferably someone old and toothless, or at any rate one who would, perhaps, beat her twice a day?
Aunt Cecily’s next words brought me out of my musings with a jolt.
“Such a pity that Geo limps. I imagine that will curtail his dancing, and Arabella does love to dance.” She tapped a slender, elegant fingertip to her lower lip. “Still, there is the fact that he is George’s son. Yes, I do think they would suit.”
I couldn’t bear to listen to any more. “If you’ll excuse me, Aunt? I need to send someone up to Town to fetch Geo’s man.”
“Yes, of course. Don’t let me keep you, Ashton. Ah, Mrs. Walker.” She acknowledged the housekeeper who had arrived and was waiting patiently for her attention.
A slight bow, and I hurried past them up the stairs to my room. After changing out of my Blucher half boots and stepping into my riding boots, I removed the silken handkerchief—one of cotton would be a more suitable choice for harvesting, I told myself, and whatever had posses
sed me to select the other?—and then hurried back downstairs.
I didn’t linger to see Geo’s curricle, drawn by a pair of high-stepping bays, brought round. I didn’t watch as he handed Arabella into it, with the utmost solicitude, whilst David assisted Mollie, her maid, up behind them. I didn’t gaze wistfully after them as off they whisked to St. Andrew’s.
Steadfastly, I put that from my mind.
Once at the stable, I asked Jem to saddle Blue Boy for me and went to find the head groom. “Mr. Ruston, Mr. Stephenson’s man needs to be brought from Town. Send a gig, if you please?”
“Aye, sir. The direction?”
“It’s on this message that’s to be delivered to him.”
He took the missive. “Gilly Hammel can read; I’ll have him drive there and fetch the man. Shall I have Pacer harnessed?”
“Yes.” The gelding was a flashy chestnut with a paler mane and tail. He would be perfect for a lady, and with a bit of Town polish, we hoped he would fetch a tidy sum. “By the bye, how is Beauty?”
A broad grin split his face. “She and the little filly are doing well, and so is Jezebel’s colt. Beauty’s accepted him.”
“Ah. I’m very glad to hear that.” It would have bothered us both if we’d had no recourse but to put him down. Just then, Jem brought up Blue Boy. “Thank you, Jem. I’m off to Three-Penny Field if there should be any need of me.”
He smiled and touched his forelock, and I swung into the saddle and cantered out to the field where the hops would be harvested.
THE SUN had reached its zenith and was beginning its downward journey when Jem came galloping up.
“Sir Ash! Sir Ash!”
“What is it?”
“Mr. Stephenson….”
I felt myself turn cold. Arabella imagined herself a dab hand with a pair. Had she teased him into allowing her to take the ribbons? I pictured his curricle overturned and him lying in a ditch, or his bays startled and run away, smashing the vehicle into a tree or stone wall, and him lying bloodied in the road.
Without waiting to hear more, and rather than take the path that led roundabout to Laytham Hall, I wheeled Blue Boy around, touched my heels to his sides, and headed him straight toward the hedge that bordered Three-Penny Field. He sailed over it, landing tidily, and then raced toward home.