Garvey laughed. Lisette said furiously, "Oh, but that was too bad of you, James. Now Justin will come, and—"
"Have no fear, beloved. I can handle your irate husband, should he object, which I rather doubt."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Merely that while he may not be very bright, I'd not take him for the reckless type."
"Be that as it may—" Lisette frowned—"he is my husband. I insist that you leave at once."
He instead stepped closer, and took her by the shoulders. "Did you despair, my lovely one? Did you think I had abandoned you? Never! I shall adore you for as long as I live."
His green eyes were soft with love, his handsome face hovered above her, and here was more romance in a few moments than she'd had from Strand in the two weeks she had been wed to him. Yet, oddly, she was more irritated that enchanted. "You are very good, and truly, I am most grateful for your concern, but I am a married woman now. Whatever might have been is—is past redemption." He looked so downcast that she was moved to add kindly, "Sir, you have every quality to charm a lady, and there are so many in London who must, I am sure, admire you."
He sighed. "But only one who has my heart." Lisette turned away, and he said, "Married, my lovely dream—married… but perhaps not past redemption."
"James," she said, searching his face, "you would not do anything foolish?"
He laughed easily. "I never do anything foolish—save to say farewell to you, my goddess. But before I go, promise me this. If you ever need me, if he ever ill-treats you, you will at once send word. Promise, Lisette?"
She nodded. "I promise." And thought it quite nonsensical.
Returning to the house, Lisette found Strand and his sister in the library. Their conversation terminated rather abruptly when she entered, but it soon became apparent that Charity had not spoken of what she had witnessed in the children's room. She had stopped, she said, for a brief visit en route to spend a month or two with the Leiths at Cloudhills.
"Which is quite absurd," said Strand. "This is your home, and always will be."
"Yes, and I should be most glad of your company," Lisette put in. "I miss my own family so badly, and it would be delightful if you could stay."
Charity was adamant, however. She would not dream of interrupting a honeymoon. "If the truth be told," she said with a glance at Lisette, "you will get little enough of privacy here, and will likely have a steady stream of visitors. You should have gone away, Justin."
He attempted a gesture, forgetting his broken arm, and winced slightly. It was sufficient for both ladies to demand he rest for a while before luncheon and, grumbling that his life was as ordered as though he were a small boy, he went contentedly upstairs to do as he was bid.
When they were alone, Lisette turned to her sister-in-law. "You did not tell him."
Charity shook her head. "I hoped there was nothing of import to tell."
. "Thank you. And there truly was not. Mr. Garvey had just arrived with—with a message from my family, and sought me out in the garden." It must, she knew, sound false, especially since Garvey had been kissing her hand when Charity had burst in on them.
"I had heard Mr. Garvey is—er, devoted to you," Charity said in a worried voice. "But truly, he has a—a rather unsavoury reputation where ladies are concerned. If my brother thought—"
Lisette summoned a small laugh. "That I have taken a lover after less than a month of marriage? Good gracious! You must suppose me fast indeed!"
"Oh, no, no! I only meant that it might be necessary for you to tell my brother, does Mr. Garvey continue to annoy you."
It was said so earnestly, and the girl's sweet face was so troubled that Lisette could not take offence and, patting her hand, agreed, "Indeed it might. But not, I think, while Strand has only his left hand."
Charity paled. "Heavens! You never think it would come to a duel? Surely Mr. Garvey would not be so rash? He is the one challenges convention in pursuing a married lady!"
"I have tried to warn him away. We can but hope he will behave properly in the future."
Charity nodded, but when she was in the carriage and being driven to Cloudhills her heart was heavy. She had very little faith in the proper behaviour of Mr. James Garvey.
Something was tickling Lisette's nose. She brushed it away sleepily, and snuggled deeper under the blankets. Again came that persistent tickling. She opened one eye. A dewy pink rose lay within an inch of her face. Blinking at it, she heard a familiar and amused voice scoff, "Slugabed!"
She raised her head and discerned Strand, booted and spurred, standing at the foot of the bed. For a moment of foolishness she fancied him almost attractive as he leaned against the bedpost watching her with his quirkish grin, his blue eyes bright against his tan, the fair hair tumbled as usual, and his whip tapping restlessly against his top boot. Such an illusion must, she decided, be the result of insufficient sleep, and closing her eyes she muttered, "Go away."
The rose tickled her nose once more, and when next she opened her eyes, Strand's face hovered rather frighteningly close. "You desire help, madam bride?" he murmured. "I shall be glad to assist you…"
His hand closed over the bedclothes. Snatching at them protectively, Lisette, aware that he had every right to do as he chose, was spurred to hasty, if indignant, agreement. "Shall I ring for your abigail?" he enquired, moving back. "Or can you manage to dress yourself alone?''
Lisette imparted regally that although she might be forced to arise at so ungodly an hour, she refused to inflict such misery upon her hapless abigail.
Strand chuckled and left her, but she was shocked when the door again swung open just as she was getting out of bed, and he stuck his head back in. "If I chance to have dropped asleep by the time you arrive downstairs, please wake me." His eyes wandered downwards; he added appraisingly, "You've a well-turned ankle, I'm glad to see."
She gave a gasp of mortification and whipped her foot back under the covers. Dreading lest he again return with his odious offer of assistance, she dressed in record time, her rapid movements accelerated by the chill in the fireless room. Adjusting her petite grey hat, its large red feather a vivid complement to her dark hair and eyes, she appraised herself critically and decided that she looked well enough—well enough for her husband, at all events. She took up whip and gloves, paused beside the full-length mirror, and lifted her habit a little. She had suspected she had no cause to blush for her legs, but nonetheless, it was nice to know she had a "well-turned ankle."
Outside, the skies looked threatening and the air was cold. Lisette shivered as they started out of the stableyard side by side. "What a miserable morning. It looks like rain." She glanced at
Strand's right arm, carried in the sling. "I doubt you should be riding yet."
"It won't rain this morning. And I feel very well, thank you," he said cheerfully. "We'll give the horses a gallop. That should warm your blood a little." He added, sotto voce, "I hope."
Lisette turned a scornful glance upon the repellent creature but surprised such a whimsical twinkle she could not hold her anger and, fighting an impulse to smile in return, remarked, "I trust we do not have far to go, Strand."
"Oh, only a short way past Petworth," he said airily.
"Petworth? Why, it—it must be three and twenty miles, at least!"
"Oh, at least. But it's early yet, and we can breakfast along the—"
His words were cut off as Brutus came charging from the trees and shot under the horses, excitedly barking. Lisette had caught a glimpse of him an instant before he reached them and had tightened her grip on the reins. Strand was caught by surprise as his big chestnut gelding bucked in a frenzy of fear. Struggling to manage her own mount, Lisette shot an anxious glance at her husband. For a man with only one arm at his disposal he was doing magnificently, his wiry body swaying to counter the chestnut's gyrations as he fought for control. Reining the animal to a halt, his gaze flashed to Lisette. "That blasted idiot of a dog!" he exclaimed, a trif
le breathless. "You might have got a broken neck out of this!"
"You terrify me, sir," she said meekly. "Shall I return home while you dispose of him?''
He glared at her, grunted "Come on!" and spurred to a gallop.
The horses were eager to go and fairly flew over the turf. Strand rode like a centaur, guiding the big chestnut unerringly with his left hand. Lisette, who had been used to chafe at the restrictions polite Society placed on young damsels and yearn for a gallop, contrarily was now vexed by Strand's breezy assumption that she needed no pampering. When her pert little hat was almost snatched off by the wind, she decided enough was enough and drew Yasmin to a sedate trot. Strand was soon out of sight, but since she had no idea whither they were bound, she surmised he would return for her. She was right. He came thundering up, his eyes bright and a becoming flush on his lean cheeks. "My apologies." He grinned. "I forget you're London bred and unaccustomed to exercise."
She was irritated, but smiled and said sweetly, "Alas, I fear I am a great disappointment to you, Mr. Strand."
"Never mind," he reassured her infuriatingly. "We'll have you up to snuff in no time."
Why was it, she wondered, that however right she was, however wrong he was, she inevitably was made to feel inferior? It was a new experience, and one she did not at all appreciate. Up to snuff, indeed! She rode on in a lofty silence, and Strand stayed more or less beside her, his horse fidgeting and fretting, snorting at every puff of breeze, sidling at shadows, and in general behaving so outrageously that several times Strand was obliged to allow him to circle Yasmin. Lisette was being drawn to a snail's pace and had to grit her teeth to keep from urging Yasmin ahead. They came to a low hedge the horses could have walked over, but Strand made a great point of insisting that Lisette wait, while he galloped off, the chestnut kicking up his heels in delight at the change of pace. In a minute or two Strand returned and led Lisette a short distance westward where he dismounted to open a low gate. Having ushered her through it with grave ceremony, he prepared to close the gate, whereupon his mount pranced sideways, colliding slightly with Yasmin.
"Brandy, you devil, be still!" Strand exhorted, and with laughter brimming in his eyes, said, "Sorry about this idiot, madam wife. He behaves in much the same fashion when I take my grandmother out."
It was the last straw. With a muffled but incensed exclamation, Lisette drove home her heels. Yasmin bounded forward. Strand's startled shout rang out, but bending low, Lisette urged the mare to greater speed, paying no heed to the wind now, and exulting in this gallop of her own choosing. Over lush meadows, down a gently sloping hill, and along a winding lane she raced, trees and hedgerows flashing past, the wind whipping her hair and sending her habit billowing. Her cheeks were tingling; she felt invigorated and ignored Strand's roared demand that she stop. He was coming up fast but, exhilarated by the chase, she made no attempt to slow the mare. They were following the path of the river and as Yasmin shot around a curve, the lane narrowed suddenly. Too late, Lisette saw that the heavy rains had caused the river to overflow its banks at a low spot just ahead. Floodwaters surged across the lane, having dug a deep channel in which debris swirled sullenly. There was no way to avoid that treacherous gulf. Tall hedgerows presented an impenetrable barrier at the left, to the right was the raging swell of the river, and the jump was by far too wide for Yasmin to attempt. For the first time in her life Lisette froze with terror and sat watching disaster rush at her.
A thunder of hooves, a gloved hand closing over her reins and wrenching back with surprising power. Yasmin reared, neighing in panic. Recovering her wits, Lisette jerked her about.
There was no time for Strand to do the same, besides which he had lost his own reins when he grabbed hers. He was leaning perilously from the saddle, but managed to pull himself upright. With his hand fast gripped in Brandy's flying mane, his knees tight, his weight on the stirrups, he guided his horse into that impossible jump. They soared into the air. Lisette gasped as Brandy's tucked-up back hooves skimmed an ugly splintered tree trunk. They could not hope to clear that deathtrap! They could not! But the chestnut landed on the far side. The earth crumbled away under his back legs. Strand had been flung forward and with a fluid leap was out of the saddle and tugging at the reins. For a breathless moment man and animal scrabbled and fought, then Brandy was clear and stood trembling, eyes rolling, and lathered with foam.
Lisette closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks. "Are you all right?" she called anxiously.
Having already satisfied himself that she'd not been thrown, Strand did not so much as deign her a glance, his full attention bent upon an inspection of his mount's muddied legs. He patted the chestnut's neck and spoke softly to him. "Wait there!" he called curtly, and led Brandy along the lane.
Watching him disappear from sight through a break in the hedgerow, Lisette thought rebelliously that he had taunted her into essaying that gallop. The fact that he had shouted at her to stop conveniently escaped her, and she glowered at Yasmin's ears, quite sure she was about to be chastised.
Strand hailed her. He had circled around and, instead of having the common decency to rush to his shaken lady and determine if she was about to swoon, waited some distance behind her, gesturing impatiently. Her brows gathering into an irked frown, she rode back to him.
"What in the devil did you think you was about, madam?" he demanded, not mincing his words. "Trying to prove what a bruising rider you are? Did you not hear me tell you to stop?"
Unhappily conscious that his anger was to an extent justified, she lifted her chin and said with proud hauteur, "Tell me, sir? No man tells me what I may do! I do as I please!"
"You did as you pleased, Mrs. Strand. From now on, you will be guided by me!" His eyes fairly sparked rage; his chin seemed to thrust out at her, and his lips were a tight, angry line.
"How dare you address me in such a tone?" Lisette flared.
"Oh, I dare! Never doubt it. And shall do more than scold if you ever again commit an act of such reckless folly! Had you forgot you are my wife?"
Her lip curling, she retaliated, "I wonder how ever I might have come to do so!" She knew at once that she had erred, for the rage in his eyes was replaced by a dancing gleam of mirth.
"I do not wonder at all," he said, adding wickedly, "but I shall contrive to remind you of it. Just as soon as possible."
Her cheeks fiery, Lisette thought it best to ignore the vulgar boor.
Chapter 9
With wretched perversity the weather bore out Strand's forecast. The sun burst through the clouds to bathe the rain-drenched south country in its brilliance, the air became pleasantly warm, and every bird in creation seemed determined to offer up a paean of thanks for this respite from the gloom. At any other time, Lisette would have been elated by so glorious a morning; under the circumstances, however, she was all but oblivious of the beauties about her. Strand's one attempt at conversation was a banal comment on the improved state of the weather, to which infamous behaviour his bride responded with justifiably haughty courtesy. Had he cared even a mite, the wretch would attempt to be conciliating, instead of which he was so heartless as to utter not another word. Her own nerves ragged, she said nothing either, and a deep, unbroachable silence settled over them.
It was almost nine o'clock when Strand turned into the yard of a quaint old inn drowsing comfortably beneath three great oak trees, its whitewashed walls somewhat weatherstained, but the mullioned windows gleaming and with smoke curling from several chimneys. The proprietor of the inn, which was rather inappropriately named The Pines, came hurrying out to them. "Back again so soon, Mr. Justin?" he beamed, adding a disastrous, "And I see you brought the little lady with—" His eyes, having travelled to Lisette, widened. "Oh," he finished, lamely.
"You must allow me to make you known to my wife," Strand put in, betraying no trace of embarrassment at this faux pas. "This is Mr. Drye, ma'am," and, as a fat little woman bustled out to join them, "and his lady, who is also the fine
st cook in Sussex."
Lisette summoned her most gracious smile. Strand assisted her to dismount and then went off to the stables with Drye, while Lisette was shown with much curtseying to a small chamber under the eaves. Viewing herself in the mirror, she was not surprised to find that the disastrous ride had reduced her hair to a windblown tangle, the collar of her habit was all awry, and her eyes looked red. She at once set about to correct matters, wondering what Strand must have thought of her appearance, and if the Other Woman ever allowed him to see her in such a state.
The parlour-maid brought up a jug of hot water. Lisette poured some into the china bowl and glared at it. Applying soap to cloth rather savagely, she decided that her husband's peculiar was likely an insipid blonde who laughed at every feeble joke he offered, and meekly agreed with whatever he had to say. The creature, whoever she was, had evidently visited The Pines a time or two, for it had been very apparent she was the lady Mr. Drye had expected to greet today. How infuriating, thought Lisette, that Strand would be so crude as to bring his wife to the same inn he had frequented with his mistress! But why should she expect anything else? He had not the slightest consideration for her feelings, or—
Conscience jabbed at her as she saw again the image of a lean, strong hand reaching out to grasp her reins. Had it not been for Strand's chivalrous intervention, she might have taken a very ugly toss this morning. He had, in fact, narrowly missed suffering such a fall himself. Apart from that, his fortune had been a boon to her hard-pressed family, and she had willingly entered a mariage de convenance. It would be shabby indeed to now require of him more than he had offered, or to fail to give credit where due. With this in mind, she completed her toilet, decided she looked passable, and hastened downstairs.
The coffee room was empty and the aroma from the kitchen so enticing that she was tempted to request that her breakfast be served. Her anxiety about Brandy was of prime importance, however, and she decided to go down to the stables while she awaited her husband.
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption Page 14