by Mary Balogh
“Hmm. I suppose you are right. Just at the moment, though, I wish that Roger and Anne were slightly less fond of me, or less concerned for my welfare, anyway.”
There was no opportunity to ask him what he meant, even if Hunsdon had wished to do so, for they had reached the grounds of Blakemore House and now encountered a party of riders returning from an expedition. Chief among them was Miss Eldridge, Brandville’s dinner partner of the previous night. She presented a charming picture in a riding habit of soft gray, and she colored prettily at their greetings and compliments. Hunsdon observed that her gaze did not leave his friend’s face, but that was hardly surprising.
Brandville was handsome in a saturnine way. Despite his financial ineligibility he always attracted female attention.
———
The unforeseen problem with the Fostwicks’ invitation to dinner was that it left Hunsdon to cool his heels for the entire day. He had been the first to quit the whist table, at half-past one that morning, and in consequence, he was up and about before most of the other guests. He encountered his hostess downstairs; she looked somewhat fatigued and, in response to a question, replied that Roger and Brandville had gone out riding this morning.
“They intend to have a race. I hope they do not break their foolish necks.”
“I am certain that there is no danger.”
“I suppose not—I am just a trifle irritated with Roger for leaving me to deal with all these guests alone, and particularly since he took Lord Brandville with him.” She looked conscious at this last remark and added hastily, “I thought that all the gentlemen might wish to form a shooting party, and one cannot tell how long this favorable weather may hold. The gamekeeper assured me that the pheasants are prolific this year.”
The word “pheasants” made Hunsdon start guiltily. It really was past time for him to be telling Barbara the truth about himself. Of course, he did not know how he could contrive to meet her without her mother about. The obstacle seemed insurmountable.
“Is anything the matter?” Anne asked.
“No, nothing at all.”
“I imagine you are wanting to see Miss Fostwick—it is a pity—but perhaps it is wise not to spend too much time together when you are just becoming reacquainted.” She looked up from her sewing with a little smile. “I wish there were anything I could do to help, but of course there is not.” She bent her head to her work again, then added shyly, “Perhaps you might care to relieve your feelings with a brisk walk, or a ride, or a drive.”
“Thank you.” He might as well drive out and see if he might not happen to encounter Barbara without her mother. He would be better this time about coming to the point. It would give him something to do this morning anyway.
———
He had just slowed the curricle to turn it down the drive to Sherbrook when he heard it. Even above the sound of the horse’s hooves, the jingle of the harness and the rattle of the wheels, he could hear a female shrieking. As they approached the source of the sound, he could make out the words.
“Blast! Blast! Blast you… you… you jackass!”
The tone was too patrician to admit the possibility of the voice’s belonging to a servant. Hunsdon thought he recognized those particular curses. He would have liked to urge the horses, but the overgrown lane was too narrow to permit it.
As they came around a bend, his suspicions were confirmed. A donkey stood in the drive, its hooves planted stubbornly and its ears pinned back. Barbara, mounted upon it, was doing her best to urge it forward with reprimands, and with the use of a light riding crop, but the donkey was having none of it. As Hunsdon pulled up his horses, the donkey seemed to come to a final decision and the animal abruptly sat, causing Barbara to tumble backward over his hindquarters.
It was fortunate that Hunsdon had brought Ned. With a call, the groom was at the horses’ heads and Hunsdon was able to leap down from the carriage to help Barbara to her feet. Although now somewhat dirty, there was nothing eccentric about her clothing today. She wore a drab brown wool pelisse over an unremarkable, if outmoded, riding habit in a dark green. On her head perched a chip bonnet garnished with ribbons in a matching shade. Her face was red from her exertions and her anger.
“Blast! Blast the animal! It took me all morning just to get him this far and then a rabbit dashed across the road and he refused to go another step.” The animal, having dislodged himself of his burden, had risen and now stood with deceptive meekness in the road.
“Hmm.” To his surprise, Hunsdon saw that Barbara’s eyes were overbright, suggesting the possibility that she was close to tears. “May I be of service? I should be happy to convey you wherever you wish to go.”
“W-would you? Oh, but… but I should not wish to disrupt your plans…”
“You would not be doing so at all. As a matter of fact, I was on my way to pay you a visit today.”
Her face brightened. “If that is so—well then, it is the most fortunate circumstance—I was going into the village, but I had something that I wished to tell you, also.”
“Shall I have my groom return the animal to your stables?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. Hah!” She took a step, slapped the animal sharply across the rump, and with a bray of protest it turned on its heels and with surprising alacrity fled in the direction of Sherbrook.
He gave the groom his orders. Fortunately, they were in a clearing, which gave Ned enough room to turn the horses around.
Hunsdon offered Barbara his arm, which she accepted with a sudden diffidence, then helped her into the carriage before climbing into it himself. He took the reins while the groom scrambled back to his own seat. Ned’s face was expressionless, but Hunsdon dreaded to imagine what he was thinking. He must see that the groom kept his mouth shut. Neither Mariabella nor his parents would be happy to hear of this episode.
Barbara’s eyes were on his horses. “What a pair of prime ‘uns,” she exclaimed admiringly in her boyish way as they started off. “Joe—the stable lad—told me, but I had no opportunity to see them myself. How I should like to drive animals such as these.” Her face assumed a droll expression. “Our horses have to be used for farm work, so although they are strong, you can’t coax them into a trot.”
There was no chance to make his confession with the groom seated just behind them, so Hunsdon instead asked Barbara if she had shot her pheasants yet.
“No, I had no luck yesterday, and Mama has decided to wait before inviting anyone to dinner. The London swell is here now, you see,” she added in a low voice. “Alfred told me that he had been to visit his sister yesterday.”
Word certainly traveled fast here, thought Hunsdon. Odd that she still should have no suspicions concerning his identity. A simple description from Alfred would have shown her the truth. She answered his unspoken question with her next words.
“Of course, Alfred is useless when it comes to telling you anything of import. All he could say was that the gentleman was dressed very fine—which of course we already knew he would be.” Her voice had risen unconsciously, but now she dropped it to a whisper again. “I saw him myself yesterday.”
Hunsdon could not help starting. “You did?”
“Yes, while I was out hunting—at least, I am sure it must be he, for he was dressed very fine—imagine, he was wearing his top hat just to go out walking—and he had a most arrogant expression—and gloomy, too, as if he detested being in the country. I knew it must be he from Mariabella’s description, ‘tall, and handsome, and distinguished’—he had a walking stick—just as I thought he would—and you have never seen a cravat like that in your life. But you must have met him by now yourself.”
By now Hunsdon had recognized this description of Brandville and was hard put to keep from laughing aloud at it. Brandville would be deflated if he knew how signally he had failed to impress a female observer. As entertaining as it was, though, his conscience reminded him that he should not allow this misapprehension to continue. “But my dear�
�” Why had he called her his “dear”? “How can you be sure it was Lord Hunsdon? There is a large party at Blakemore House, after all.”
“Oh, but I am sure.” She giggled. “He had on a pair of Wellingtons, and a pebble must have landed in one, for he had to stop and remove it and shake it out. He had a great deal of trouble removing the boot, and I could hear him cursing the countryside and swearing that he would never leave London again.”
It did sound like Brandville. No wonder he had been in such a sour mood. The thought of the impeccably groomed peer hopping up and down on one foot on a country road, cursing at the top of his lungs, was an amusing one. Hunsdon just managed to keep from smiling himself. “I am afraid that it sounds suspiciously as if you have been spying, your ladyship.”
“Well, I cannot help that he did not see me,” she said mischievously. “The timing would not have been fortunate for a meeting. But that puts me in mind of something that I must tell you… when we have opportunity, of course.”
She would not elaborate and he did not press her. Instead, the conversation easily turned to sport, and to Hunsdon’s surprise, he discovered that Barbara was knowledgeable about horses, dogs, guns, and all sorts of hunting. Her father, at least, had not neglected her education. It was an unusual acquisition for a young lady, but it did not take Hunsdon long to discern, in spite of her disclaimers to the contrary, that she often provided meat for the family table. After meeting her mother, he had begun to suspect that whatever small income they had was badly mismanaged.
They had reached the outskirts of the village, and now she directed him to the store. Lady De Neresford had belatedly realized the necessity for amaranth ribbon to match her new gown, and Barbara had been commissioned to fetch it.
“Though I doubt Mrs. Gray is likely to have any, since it is a new color. Still, Mama would not be content until I asked and I would rather go outside on this sort of day than remain cooped in the house.”
Hunsdon’s first thought was that she was right and that the weather had been glorious and unseasonably fair for January and February. He was also quick, however, to catch the wistful note in her voice. It would be misery to be entrapped in a house all day with her mother. The poor child! He must think of some way to improve her situation. With all the resources at his command, there must be something he could do for her. Perhaps Mariabella would have an idea. He would have to mention it to her.
As she had predicted the amaranth ribbon, since it was a new shade, was not available in Mrs. Gray’s modest shop. The proprietress assured her that she would be certain to have her assistant, Miss Tinsley, obtain some for Lady De Neresford when she next went to London.
Barbara shook her head resignedly. “I am afraid that it may be too late by then. Mama never can find the colors she wants until a new color has already become the fashion instead.”
The neighborhood might look upon Barbara with scorn, but it was clear that in this domain, she was regarded as an august personage. Hunsdon was aware that there had been a flutter of interest when he had entered the shop with her, and several speculative looks had passed from him to Barbara and back again.
It was rather ridiculous. She was, after all, only an infant.
They were ready to leave when inspiration seized him. With all this ribbon and lace about, why shouldn’t he buy the materials to make Mariabella a valentine? It was a childish thing, it was true, but secretly he hoped she might find it romantic, also.
“I’ll take an ell of that red ribbon,” he announced abruptly, startling Barbara and the shopkeepers.
“An ell?”
“Yes, and some of that pink ribbon over there, too. And show me some of your lace also, please.”
“What in heaven’s name?” The muttered exclamation had come from Barbara, who was quite unused to such extravagance.
“I am purchasing materials for a valentine. Do you think that one ell is not enough? Perhaps I should make it two. I wonder how one ties a love knot?”
Barbara’s face was suffused with color. She responded to his inquiries about which lace she thought was prettiest with barely audible murmurs. When his purchase was concluded and they had left the shop, she said in an urgent whisper, “I… that is, Mr. Fitzhugh… I must have speech with you immediately.”
He had been thinking much the same thing. There could be no reason to delay his confession any longer. He must acquaint her with the truth. “There must be some sort of an inn here. Perhaps you would be willing to accompany me there and partake of a meal. Since I did not breakfast this morning, I must admit I am famished.”
She consented, and since the day was so fair, they walked the short distance to the inn. Barbara was surprisingly silent. Well, that would make telling her all the easier.
There was no opportunity for private conversation until after they had been served. Hunsdon was attacking a neat’s tongue when she suddenly broke her silence. The stumbling words poured from her, permitting no interruption.
“Mr. Fitzhugh—I—I am most sensible of the honor you do me—that is, it is a most awkward thing to have to tell you, and it is a great pity that we did not have opportunity to converse before—but I most particularly needed to tell you”—here she took a deep breath—”Mama said that she would not favor your suit.”
He was frozen with shock. His countenance must have revealed his incredulity, but Barbara did not see it. Her gaze was lowered to her plate.
“I—it is nothing against you yourself, of course. It is simply that she feels she would be failing in her duty to my late father if she allowed me to marry a commoner. I—I find you to be a most agreeable gentleman myself,” she added sincerely, raising her eyes to his at last. “In fact, I have never met a gentleman so easy to converse with before.”
She must have misinterpreted his ribbon purchase, is confused brain finally decided.
“Mama said that you would naturally be interested in allying yourself with a De Neresford. I must confess that I thought that she was wrong, but I did mean to speak to you in any case,” continued Barbara, lowering her gaze once more. “I meant to speak to you before… it was most kind of you to wish to… that is, I was deeply touched—I have never had a valentine before, you see—” Here she blushed again, even more vividly. “Of course, I would not have wished to raise your hopes unnecessarily. I am sorry. I hope that we may still continue as friends?”
What was he to say? “Actually, I am Lord Hunsdon, the one your mother wishes you to wed, but I am not at all interested in marrying you.” It might be kinder in the end to say so now. Confound that mother! Expecting that a long family tree would make any single gentleman leap at the chance of wedding this impoverished, eccentric child of a girl! He had certainly erred in imagining Barbara to be the mentally deficient member of her family.
The little chin was lifted up bravely and those candid blue eyes were watching him. “Please?” she added hopefully. Her lower lip trembled.
He opened his mouth and shut it again. “Why, yes, I suppose we may.” What a weakling he was. Still, it seemed worth it at the moment to see that radiant smile spread across her countenance. The chit was oddly taking when in a happy mood.
“I wish you were Lord Hunsdon,” she announced abruptly. “I would much rather marryyou than him.”
Perhaps it was just as well that he hadn’t told her the truth. Perhaps he might be married and gone from the neighborhood before she discovered it, he thought, temporarily abandoning his idea of helping her.
———
Though nuncheon with Barbara had caused him to feel that control of his life was slipping from his grasp and that he might have reason to fear for his sanity, happily dinner with Mariabella and her family accomplished the opposite. Again his universe seemed well-ordered, he was once more the master of his own fate, and what a pleasant fate it was, he thought, glancing at his lovely intended.
With Anne’s help, he had contrived to make a love knot of the red ribbon. He had placed it in a little enameled box an
d presented it to Mariabella upon his arrival. She must know he might easily have provided her with rubies and diamonds, but he had chosen to give her a simple, more heartfelt token of his affections instead. Since she also had grown up with wealth, the homemade token must delight her all the more.
It would have pleased him if upon opening the box, she had exclaimed over it and let him know how deeply it had touched her, but she had merely thanked him politely before laying it upon a side table. Of course, her family was about and, as Anne had said, she was not impulsive. Apparently she was not demonstrative either. It was a virtue in a countess-to-be. His mother had warned him that he could not do worse than to marry some ill-bred sort of girl who wore her heart upon her sleeve. The countess had then remembered an incident of a newly married viscount and viscountess who had spent a good part of an assembly seated beside each other upon a sofa. What was worse, they had actually held hands for quite some time. Naturally, everyone was embarrassed for them and invitations to the couple dropped as a consequence. His mother had fixed him with a penetrating eye and remarked that she knew her son too well to suppose he would betray himself by acting in such a manner. Horrified, he had responded appropriately. Now, as he thought about it, he had to wonder a little. Certainly circumspection was called for in public, but did that mean that one had to appear absolutely indifferent to one’s love? Of course, that was not being fair to Mariabella. He should not blame her for being mistress of her own emotions. He could not expect less of her. He would hardly wish her to declare her liking for him in the same transparent fashion that Barbara did. He felt an odd twinge of disloyalty for thinking about Barbara. Still, it served to remind him that he had meant to ask Mariabella what could be done for the child. Perhaps tonight would be an opportune time. As Barbara’s friend, it was a matter with which she naturally must have concerned herself. She must have some ideas. He smiled at his intended warmly. She returned his smile pleasantly.