Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon

by Catherine Gayle

  “All right,” Niall went on, “I’ll make your excuses today. I’ll tell Lady Burington you’ve taken ill and plan to stay abed for the day, and you can have the whole day to sift through all the mud in your brain. Tomorrow, you’ll take responsibility for your own actions.”

  “Of course.” Aidan nodded, silently giving thanks for being able to gain Niall’s cooperation without revealing more than he had.

  Niall stood and made for the door, but stopped just before leaving. “But Aidan? If your interest in Miss Hathaway is genuine, you’d best make up your mind to court her properly. I won’t have you causing a scandal around her. This family has already seen too much scandal for one lifetime.”

  Courting her, whether properly or improperly, had never even crossed Aidan’s mind. Why the devil would he want to do something inherently mad such as that? Had he gone mad, like Morgan had? That might explain his otherwise unexplainable behavior outside.

  Thank God Niall didn’t know about what had already taken place last night on the lawn. He was typically slow to anger, but once it had been sufficiently roused—well, Niall would stop at nothing to right a perceived wrong.

  Aidan nodded for his brother’s benefit, and then Niall left.

  For the next hour, Aidan paced around his chamber, waiting for the house to empty of guests. Once it was just him and the servants, he sneaked through the corridors and outside. He needed fresh air and to stretch his legs more than he could within the confines of his chamber.

  So he started walking. And kept walking.

  Aidan had no true destination in mind. He just needed to move, to get distance…perhaps a bit of perspective. He lost all sense of time and place as he traversed the woody area to the east of the great house. At some point, he recognized that he was heading toward the hermitage that he’d passed with Lord Jacob, Morgan, and Miss Hathaway yesterday.

  The hermitage where, supposedly, David had transferred everything from Aidan’s studio.

  It had been more than three years since he’d picked up a chisel. More than three years since his hand had gripped a hammer and carved away a piece of marble.

  The lure of his tools pulled at him—a stronger force than he’d felt in so long he’d almost forgotten the sensation creating used to provide him with.

  But he didn’t have the key that David had left him. Since he hadn’t planned to go anywhere in particular, he hadn’t bothered to think of such things. He couldn’t get in. He couldn’t run his hands over the smooth, cool surface, letting the shape of it seep into his fingers and spread through his body. He couldn’t go to work.

  Yet his feet kept propelling him forward, closer and closer to the hermitage.

  He couldn’t turn back to the main house now to fetch the key. The last thing he needed was for some servant or another to spot him out and about, and fully hale and hearty. Niall had lied to the rest of the houseguests, not to mention to David and Vanessa, about him falling ill. Aidan might not always see eye to eye with his brother, but he wouldn’t intentionally put him in such a position.

  Before he had fully made up his mind whether to stop by the hermitage or not, it appeared through the thicket of trees before him.

  Aidan’s gait turned to a purposeful stride, and in mere moments he stood before the structure.

  It really was the perfect place for him to occasionally escape to—out a good walk away from the house, where no one would hear the sounds of his working. Where no one would come upon him unaware.

  Well, no one but perhaps Jacob Deering. It was still unnerving, the thought of Deering coming upon the hermitage that day. What was his purpose?

  But why would Deering return here? He hadn’t been inclined to stop and discover anything about it yesterday, so what reason would he have to come back?

  Aidan moved closer and peered inside a window, and his mouth nearly started to water at the sight before him. Chisels and hammers in various shapes and sizes, buckets to collect water from the stream, several untouched pieces of marble—and the piece he’d been working on before word arrived about Morgan’s mishap with the carriage.

  The overall shape of it was done, but the finer details remained. He’d yet to craft the feathers of the wings, the particular expression of the face, or the lines of the angel’s gown.

  A desire to pick up the nearest chisel and hammer and set to work became so strong within him that, without realizing what he was doing, Aidan stepped closer to the door and tried the latch.

  It opened.

  When Sir Henry stopped just before crossing the main road in Topsham and turned to grant Emma and Serena a broad smile, Emma nearly ran straight into him. As she’d just done that very thing with Mr. Cardiff last night, and she recalled entirely too clearly how that situation had ended, she was quite glad she’d somehow stopped before doing so with Sir Henry today.

  “Where shall we go first, ladies?” he asked jovially, rubbing his hands together. “I understand the bakery has a delicious lemon scone we could try with tea. Or the haberdasher might have some ribbons you’d like.”

  Emma’s mind was far from scones and ribbons. At every turn, something would remind her of last night’s encounter. Thank goodness Serena had taken her arm when the houseguests had sorted themselves into groups for a shopping excursion. Serena had then promptly found Sir Henry and Lord Muldaire to escort the two of them. It would have been just Emma’s luck to be stuck with Mr. Cardiff again, and Lord only knew where that might lead.

  As it was, her knees were wobbling just from the memory.

  She was here to find herself a husband, and Mr. Cardiff was not the marrying sort. Spending time with him would hardly aid her in that cause. Being in his presence only left her with a head filled with anxiety and a series of flutters in her stomach.

  A shopping excursion with Sir Henry Irvine and Lord Muldaire was certainly more in line with how she ought to spend her time. The two of them were at least possibilities, Sir Henry in particular, even if his friendly eyes did not leave her all aflutter like the intensity in Mr. Cardiff’s did.

  In fact, it was decidedly better that they didn’t. Emma had no intention of losing her heart to a man who might then leave her heartbroken. Let him marry her first. Then he could have her heart. It was true they might never love one another in such a case, but wouldn’t that be better than being as distraught as Morgan had been? Emma had love in her life. She loved her sister and her parents. That could be enough. She would make it so, if necessary.

  It was only after they’d left Heathcote Park in Lord Muldaire’s carriage that Emma discovered Mr. Cardiff had begged off of the day’s outing, claiming some minor illness or another. Lord Trenowyth was confident that his brother would be fit as a fiddle tomorrow.

  Illness, indeed. He likely was still as shaken as she was from their encounter.

  “The scones sound delightful, Sir Henry,” Serena said, drawing Emma back into the present and saving her from the necessity of forming an answer.

  “Excellent.” He repositioned Emma’s hand on his arm while Lord Muldaire did the same with Serena’s, then he checked to be certain they could cross safely and headed out into the road.

  Moments later, Emma and Serena were situated at a small table just outside the bakery while the two gentlemen headed off to fetch their treats.

  Serena leaned over and took Emma’s hand. “Are you still feeling unwell? I’m certain I could convince them to take us back early if you want. No point in trying to have a good time with a headache.” She gave a tiny grin and dropped her voice even lower. “Father would be most upset that I wasn’t spending enough time with Lord Muldaire, but he can go hang on that score.”

  Emma nearly choked on a laugh. “Your father, or Lord Muldaire?”

  “I’d hate to say anything unkind about the marquess, because he is a perfectly nice gentleman,” Serena whispered, checking over her shoulder, “but he is rather dreadfully boring, don’t you agree? Yet Father is set upon him.”

  “There�
�s no changing his mind?”

  She shook her head with a sigh. “I’m afraid not. I tried to tell him I’d be happier with Lord Trenowyth—and he’s an earl, so it isn’t as though it’s such a massive fall down the social ladder, particularly for the daughter of a commoner—but he would hear none of it. I think they might have already agreed to terms, though Lord Muldaire hasn’t yet asked me to marry him.”

  Sir Henry and Lord Muldaire’s imminent arrival as they made their way back to their table prevented Emma from responding. Just as Sir Henry set a tray with a scone and a teacup before her, Emma glanced out the window. The scene before the bakery caught her attention.

  Morgan was crossing the main road on Mr. Deering’s arm, alongside Lord Trenowyth and Miss Selwyn. Heading the other way, a gentleman had a dog on a rope lead, and Morgan’s face lit with joy as she bent in the middle of the road to scratch the dog behind the ears.

  And that was when the idea struck her.

  “Sir Henry,” Emma said. She straightened, suddenly focused. “When you train your dogs, what sorts of things can you train them to do?”

  He and Lord Muldaire took their seats, and then he turned his attention to Emma. “I’ve trained dogs to do any number of things. What sort of thing would you like your dog to do?”

  Serena turned a questioning gaze on Emma. “What do you want…?”

  Emma gave a slight shake of her head before turning back to Sir Henry. “Well, could a dog be trained to help a person? To walk on a lead with them and guide them away from dangers?”

  “Like with Lady Morgan, I would imagine,” Lord Muldaire surmised. He inclined his head pensively.

  “Yes, precisely.” Emma gave a firm nod. “Like with Lady Morgan.” She picked up her scone, but didn’t take a bite. Her mind was far too occupied with thoughts of how she could help her friend become more capable of doing things on her own to worry about something as mundane as eating.

  Sir Henry took a swallow of his tea and narrowed his eyes. “I suppose the right dog could learn such behaviors. Lady Morgan would also have to learn how to handle the dog. They could learn together.”

  “Oh, this is brilliant!” Serena clapped her hands and bounced in her chair. “She’ll love the idea, I just know it.”

  Whether Lord Trenowyth or Mr. Cardiff would love the idea was another matter entirely, but Emma forced that concern aside. “Would you be willing to train a dog for Lady Morgan and teach her what she needs to know?” After all, if Sir Henry wouldn’t agree to the plan, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest what Lord Trenowyth and Mr. Cardiff thought.

  Lord Muldaire gave her a placating smile that grated on her nerves. “There is still the matter of finding the right dog for the task, Miss Hathaway.”

  “Indeed,” Sir Henry said with a nod. “And that is no small task, I can assure you. I wouldn’t trust it with one of my pups. At such a young age, they’re too unpredictable. We’d need an older, more sedate dog, I’d think. Perhaps a collie…”

  Emma got the distinct impression that he would have gone on interminably, sorting through his thoughts aloud. She returned her still-uneaten scone to her plate. “Oh, but I already have a dog in mind.”

  Sir Henry frowned. “Well, I’d have to evaluate—”

  “You can as soon as we return to Heathcote Park. I’m sure Kingley will be perfect.”

  She ignored the dropped jaws of the two gentlemen.

  A sly smile came across Serena’s countenance. “You may just be right, Miss Hathaway. And I’ll help.”

  Emma sat back, picked up her scone, and finally took a bite, more at peace than she’d been since the Cardiff family’s arrival. Even if, for whatever reason, Kingley was not the right dog to aid Morgan, at least the time they spent trying would have her getting to know Sir Henry better, as long as he allowed her to help, and it would help to keep Emma’s mind off Mr. Cardiff.

  And that was most decidedly a good thing. Less time thinking about him would mean less time worrying about silly fluttering sensations.

  When Emma and Serena pulled Morgan aside to tell her their plan, her smile was bright enough to light all of Heathcote Park at night.

  “Oh, but Niall and Aidan won’t allow it,” she said a moment later, after the initial glow of the moment had worn off.

  “Sir Henry’s talking to Lord Trenowyth right now,” Emma said. “He’ll be far better at convincing your brothers than we will. He’s a very accomplished breeder and trainer. If anyone can teach Kingley how to help you, it’s him.”

  Serena took Morgan’s hand and squeezed. “And Lord Muldaire is with them, too. He has some of the very dogs that Sir Henry trained on his own property. He can reassure Lord Trenowyth that Sir Henry is the most skilled and knowledgeable gentleman around.”

  Emma nodded, but then remembered that Morgan couldn’t see her action. Morgan seemed so capable so much of the time that Emma often forgot she couldn’t see, despite the fact that she was planning to train Kingley for that very reason. “Besides, Mr. Cardiff is unwell, and so by the time he learns what we’re doing, it will be too late. We’ll already be well into the process, and he won’t be able to change anyone’s mind on the matter any longer.” At least Emma hoped that would be the case.

  Morgan rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, as though she was ready to take off running with Kingley by her side at that very moment. “All right. I’m willing to try it. When can we start?”

  Sir Henry was already walking across the lawn toward them and slid into place behind Morgan. “We can start as soon as Miss Hathaway convinces this Kingley to join us.”

  Emma put her hands to her mouth in order to do just that, but then Sir Henry held up a hand to stop her.

  “On second thought, perhaps you three ought to go inside and have your maids assist you in changing into something more suitable. There’s no call for you to ruin such lovely gowns.”

  And he didn’t even know about the one she and Mr. Cardiff had destroyed just last night. Emma nodded and fought back her blush, hoping no one would notice. “Right you are. In we go, ladies.”

  Fanny had insisted she could repair last night’s gown, but Emma held sincere doubt on that score. Nevertheless, the lady’s maid had pulled it from Emma’s hands before she could toss it in the fire and run off with it. Heaven only knew where she’d taken it or what she’d done with it.

  Half an hour later, they reconvened on the lawn wearing more serviceable frocks they’d borrowed from Vanessa. Not one of the three had thought to bring anything of the sort with them, but then again, none of them had been planning to spend their afternoons frolicking with a dog.

  “Kingley!” Emma called as they made their way back over the field to join Sir Henry.

  He wasn’t alone—Lord Muldaire, Lord Trenowyth, Lord Burington, and Mr. Deering had all taken up seats beneath a shade tree, watching over the scene. Several of the ladies from the party had gathered together, as well, seated together on a blanket spread over the lawn with several parasols shading them from the sun. A great iron tub had been carried out and waited on the ground beside Sir Henry, and a series of footmen were carting out buckets of water to fill it. He held a piece of soap in one hand and waved them forward.

  If they were to bathe the dog today, they should all thank the heavens they had changed their gowns. Emma was more thankful than before that Vanessa had been able to spare some for them to borrow.

  Before they reached Sir Henry’s side, Kingley had bounded around the side of the great house from the direction of the woods, racing straight for them with a series of happy barks.

  Emma held out a hand to him, and he shoved his head into it in an effort to both nuzzle her and smother her with affection. It seemed he loved her even more each time she saw him. Soon, he’d be the same way with Morgan, since she would be the one giving him time and attention.

  “Right, then.” Sir Henry took off his coat and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt. “Miss Hathaway, Miss Weston, if you two will stay with L
ady Morgan off to the side, I’ll give Kingley a bath to rid him of his fleas.”

  Emma felt a twinge of disappointment that she wasn’t allowed to participate in every aspect of today’s lessons, but she grudgingly nodded her assent. She had no intention of doing anything that would cause Sir Henry to change his mind.

  He tried to take Kingley by the scruff of his neck and guide him into the tub. Tried being the important part of that sentiment, because Kingley would have none of it. He growled low in his throat and snapped his jaws menacingly at Sir Henry each time the baronet made an attempt to move closer to the group of them. Within moments, Kingley had situated himself between the three ladies and Sir Henry, and barked warning after warning.

  “Oh, dear.” Emma hadn’t expected this sort of reaction. She reached down and drew her hand along Kingley’s back, trying to calm him.

  Again, he nuzzled the palm of her hand. How odd, that Kingley could be so gentle with her, and yet so menacing toward Sir Henry. She chanced a glance over to Lord Trenowyth and the other men and couldn’t help but notice the looks of apprehension upon their faces.

  They didn’t think this would work, blast them. Emma straightened her spine and steeled her nerves.

  Well, most of them appeared to feel that way. Mr. Deering gave her a brief nod, his kind smile as apparent as ever. Then he started across the lawn to join them.

  Emma turned back to Sir Henry, and she noted the same disdainful expression deep within his eyes. Blast, but she refused to let them make a mockery of her. Not now. Not when it was something that could mean such a difference for Morgan.

  She gritted her teeth and straightened her spine, determined now, more than ever before, that she would teach Kingley to aid Morgan—with or without Sir Henry’s assistance. “I think it might be best if I assist you, sir.”

  He started to shake his head, as though he would refuse her, but Emma snapped her fingers and started forward. Sure enough, Kingley came along right by her side, as did Serena with Morgan on her arm.

  “I’ll assist as well,” Mr. Deering said confidently. And, oddly enough, Kingley stopped growling when the barrister came near.