“Surely you didn’t agree with that, did you, Petrie? A female shining your master’s boots?”
Petrie said slowly, “I have never before considered anise seed. We will see. Oh yes, Mrs. Gray sent a message saying she wouldn’t be with us tomorrow. It seems her brother has a broken leg and she must tend to him. She believes the first of next week will be all right for both her and her brother.”
Hallie realized she was stumped. What else could she ask? Better to quit the field with some dignity. “Ah, well, no matter. Thank you, Petrie.”
“Of course, Miss Carrick. I am at your service, naturally, at any time at all.”
His slyness smacked her in the back of the head. She would never give him the exact measure of anise seed. “You gave me no service at all,” she said over her shoulder as she marched, with not much dignity, into the dining room.
Cook burned the sole, mashed the fresh green beans, and placed lovely warm rolls on the table with doughy centers. The promised blancmange for dessert never appeared, probably a good thing. Angela remarked that she heard Cook singing a funeral dirge, and who knew funeral dirges for heaven’s sake? Who had told her of Jason’s defection? Hallie decided she should have tried a little toadying. Maybe it would have worked as well as male beauty and Jason’s smile.
Or maybe not.
CHAPTER 21
The following morning was sunny and warm. No one would guess it had rained hard enough to fill the rain barrel unless they slipped in an occasional three-foot mud puddle.
It had taken Hallie and three stable lads to hold Delilah still and keep her calm while Henry and Jason controlled Dodger, who was snorting, wild-eyed, nostrils flaring. He was so well-rested and excited, saliva was dripping from his mouth, but he didn’t hurt the mare, which was a relief.
After Dodger had performed his duty with Delilah, Hallie wondered how Delilah could have enjoyed herself at all. It was a messy business, sometimes dangerous. The thing was, Henry told Hallie, that Delilah was no longer interested in her food. Dodger was something, wasn’t he, he’d rescued Delilah from a desert of want. Hallie had no answer for that.
Everyone was exhausted and tired and sweaty when it was over. The men hadn’t even seemed to notice she wasn’t one of them there toward the end of the business what with sweat running down her brow.
As Hallie wiped Delilah’s sleek neck, she said, “You’re a brave girl, Delilah, a stoic princess faced with a toad, not a prince. Yes, you were able to bear that clod of a horse with that disgusting spit hanging out of his mouth.” She was reaching for a damp sponge when she saw Jason standing in the stall doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an elegant eyebrow arched over wicked eyes, grinning at her.
Her chin went up, her voice defensive even as she willed it not to be. “Well, it’s the truth. Dodger wasn’t at all, er, graceful and considerate, as he was to Piccola.”
“As I recall, Piccola nearly slept through it.”
“Well, Delilah wanted to kill Dodger. She was quivering, her eyes were rolling, and she looked really mad. The more upset she became the more of a brute Dodger was.”
“Some men are as well,” Jason said, realized what had come out of his mouth, and bit his tongue. What was the matter with him?
That made her frown at him. She started brushing Delilah too vigorously and was nearly bitten. She jumped aside even as she said with a lovely sneer in his ever-so-lovely smiling face, “Well now, haven’t you been in a deliriously happy frame of mind since the moment Petrie dragged you out of bed this morning? Very late, wasn’t it? I do believe that Angela and I had long finished eating. If it wasn’t for your damned face, you would have gone hungry.”
“Well, I didn’t since our cook is excellent and ever so flexible. She served me fresh nutty buns, scrambled eggs and, I do believe, bacon crisped just as I like it. We are very lucky to have her.”
“Go ahead, trade on your wretched looks. It means nothing.”
“Careful, Hallie, you’re not exactly a knotty stick, you know. Hypocrisy isn’t attractive. Also, what do you mean by that? I don’t trade on anything, much less my damned face, it’s absurd.”
“None of that is to the point.”
“And the point being?”
“Look at that grin on your sorry face—all vacuous and silly, like you’re so pleased with yourself. What sort of meeting did you go to? Who made you so happy? No, I see, you drank a lot, didn’t you? Gambled away our profits?”
“Perhaps a bit of brandy. I couldn’t gamble because we don’t have any profits yet.” He scratched his belly and leaned against the stall wall. “Delilah will try for another bite if you don’t stop rubbing her so hard. Use the sponge on her. I’m not about to say anything more about that.”
“What do you mean about men being clods?”
He seamed his lips, shook his head. She could pull out his fingernails, but he wasn’t doing any explaining, particularly since he’d never meant to say it in the first place to a young lady who was as unbroken as a newly born filly. “Sex,” came out of his mouth, followed by, “It’s a fine art. Some men are too selfish or simply uninformed, well, never mind. Curse me again for opening my mouth. When you’re through with Delilah, Henry said Angela wanted us to know that Cook has outdone herself for lunch, though I have no idea why she would do that since every meal she’s prepared for us has been quite excellent.”
Hallie stared at him, swallowed, managed to get herself together and say, “She cooks for you.”
“What does that mean? No, don’t even think something so utterly ridiculous. She’s always cooked for the three of us.”
“Never mind. You’re quite conceited enough. Go away. I’m starving. What is she preparing?”
Jason looked blank. “I don’t know, I never asked. Normally she usually stands there, saying nothing at all, when I speak to her.”
Hallie snorted.
The shaved ham was lovely, sliced as thin as Cook’s at Northcliffe Hall, and so Jason told her after luncheon, only Mrs. Millsom didn’t thank him, simply continued silent, staring at him. He thanked her once more, and left the kitchen, shaking his head. The woman might be dim-witted, but she was magic with the cook pans.
Angela was taken aback when Petrie, voice rich and formal, announced a gentleman was here to see Miss Hallie.
She said, “This is odd. It can’t be any friends or relatives or they’d know she was likely at the stables. Hmm. Show this gentleman in, Petrie.”
A very handsome man indeed, Angela thought as the gentleman in question walked with a gentleman’s saunter into the drawing room. He paused a moment, stared all about before focusing his attention on the only occupant, namely Angela.
He sketched her an elegant bow. “Ma’am, I’m Lord Renfrew. I’m a special friend of Miss Carrick’s.”
Angela, who didn’t know a thing about Lord Renfrew’s nefarious marital schemes for Hallie, rose, her smile welcoming, and stretched her hand out to him.
Lord Renfrew took her hand, raised it to his lips. Ah, a very graceful gesture, Angela thought, feeling her heart trip for a moment. He must have met Hallie during her season. What a very lovely man indeed. Why had Hallie never mentioned him?
“Won’t you sit down, my lord? Hallie is riding, I believe.”
Lord Renfrew eased his elegant self into a high-backed chair with lovely patterned brocade cushions. “I have been out of town, ma’am, and thus didn’t hear until I returned to London a short time ago that Miss Carrick had moved here to run a stud farm with a gentleman she met not two months ago. I cannot imagine her doing such a thing. Miss Carrick is a lady. Since you say she is riding, that rather puts a period to that ridiculous rumor, doesn’t it? A lady rides, after all.”
“Well, yes, of course a lady rides. Actually, though, my lord, there is much more than riding involved. Are you familiar with the Sherbrooke family?”
Lord Renfrew nodded, laid a graceful hand on the chair arm. “Certainly everyone in society knows the Sherbrookes, ma�
��am. However, this son, Jason Sherbrooke . . . I understand he’s not been in England for many years.”
“He’s home now. He’s here, to be more specific. He and Hallie are partners. I am her chaperone.”
“Chaperone? What is this? I don’t understand. This makes no sense.”
Angela said, “The reason they’re here together is because they both wanted Lyon’s Gate. Neither would sell out to the other. It’s a bit more complicated than that, naturally, but that’s the essence of it.” She paused a moment, then added, “Anyone in London could have told you that.”
“As I said, I did not believe it.” He looked around the drawing room. “This is a charming room, and the grounds and paddocks look prosperous, but still, why would Miss Carrick wish to own this particular property? It is not as grand as she is used to. You know she lived at Ravensworth Abbey for many years. Surely she wouldn’t be content coming so far down—” At that moment, Petrie, knowing the gentleman’s worth, wheeled in a fine old tea cart donated by Lady Lydia. Petrie’s entrance was a good thing, and Lord Renfrew realized it. He’d been unmeasured in his criticism of this undistinguished property that smelled of stables. He bowed his head and said nothing more.
What is all this about? Angela wondered as she gave him a cup of tea with three sugars, and two small cakes. She said, as she sipped her own tea, “During the mornings, Hallie and Jason are always working at the stables or exercising the horses.”
“Do you know when Hallie will be coming back to the house, ma’am?”
They both heard the front door open and close, and Hallie’s voice calling, “Martha! Come quickly, I’ve had a dreadful accident!”
“Oh dear.” Angela was on her feet and running. Lord Renfrew rose more slowly. His instincts were excellent. He waited, saying nothing. He heard a young girl say, “Heavenly groats, Miss Hallie—look at that tear. Petrie said the Dauntry mare was arriving this morning. Did the beast snag your skirt?”
“Her name’s Penelope and she’s fast.”
“I can fix it. Come along, Miss Hallie.”
Petrie said, “It’s a large tear, one more suited to the skills of a seamstress, not a poorly educated young lady’s maid who should, at best, be a tweeny.”
“Now, you see here, Mr. Sweaty-Breath, I can do almost anything at all, I—”
Hallie was laughing. Lord Renfrew heard that sweet laugh quite clearly. He’d always liked her laugh. Toward the end, though, she hadn’t laughed as much. He waited.
“It’s all right, Martha. Petrie will soon see how very talented you are. Let’s go upstairs. Don’t worry, Angela, the mare got the skirt, not me. I should have been paying more attention. I left Jason holding his stomach, laughing his head off, the moron.”
“A moment, Hallie. You have a visitor in the drawing room.”
Petrie inserted himself between Angela and Martha. “I was going to inform her, Mrs. Tewksbury. Indeed, I am standing right here, preparing to inform her of her visitor in the drawing room. You did not give me a chance, and Martha here—but all’s well, really.” He pumped up his lungs. “Miss Hallie, there is a visitor to see you in the drawing room.”
“A visitor?” Hallie asked. “Oh, you mean Corrie is here to visit? Yes, I remember. Give her some tea, Angela, and I will join her in but a moment. I am not ready to be seen.”
“But Hallie—”
“I’ll be right back, Angela.”
Lord Renfrew heard her quick steps up the stairs. Or maybe that was her poorly educated, too-young lady’s maid. The older lady with all the lace marching from her waist to her neck hadn’t told her his name, nor had the butler with the lovely voice. She would probably find out though before she came back downstairs. He didn’t know if that would be good or bad, though he always preferred surprise. He always had the advantage when he did the surprising. He walked to the fireplace, looked at himself in the mirror, knew that he looked elegant, beautifully garbed and as handsome as a minor god. He seated himself again, sipped his tea, and waited.
To his surprise, it wasn’t ten minutes before Hallie appeared in the drawing room doorway, a bit out of breath. She saw him and stopped dead in her tracks.
“You’re not Corrie.”
He gave her a smile that had once burned her to her toes. She looked strange. It was that full skirt, that strange-looking shirt and vest she was wearing. Why was she dressed like a Romany gypsy?
She said, “I hurried because I thought it was Corrie visiting. Both Angela and Petrie are in the kitchen trying to fix Cook’s new stove. Had I known it was you, I would have taken my time.”
“It is all right, Hallie. You look lovely.”
She hadn’t meant that at all, the conceited buffoon. “Lord Renfrew. What the devil are you doing here, sir?”
Not an auspicious beginning. On the other hand, he would have been a fool to expect otherwise. “It is wonderful to see you again, Hallie. Won’t you call me Elgin again, my dear?”
He strolled over to her, forcing her to look up because he was tall. He took her hand before she realized what he was about, and kissed the inside of her wrist, licking where he’d kissed. Hallie jerked her hand back. Before, so long before, she would have gone pale and hot with excitement. “What are you doing here, sir?”
He wanted to slap her. “I am here to see you, naturally. I have come to beg your forgiveness for my errant stupidity.”
She nodded. “Yes, you were excessively stupid. I suppose it means something that you can admit to your perfidy now and apologize for it. However, I have no intention of forgiving you for the entire length of my lifetime, so take yourself away.”
“No, not yet. Give me but another moment, Hallie. You were always a kind girl, sweet-natured—”
“Don’t forget naïve.”
He sighed deeply, walked back to the fireplace, knowing he presented an excellent impression, knowing she would be blind if she didn’t admire him, and turned slowly to lean back against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest. “How very sorry I was for the loss of your trust in me. It was all a mistake, a dreadful mistake that happened because I was taken in by a woman who was more experienced than I, a simple man from the country. I was weak, I admit it. This is no excuse, pray don’t think it is. The fact is that I was weak and was led astray. That woman is no longer in my heart or in my mind.”
“That was certainly fortunate, since you then married that poor girl in York. Do I have that right?”
“Ah, my poor little Anne. She died nearly a year ago, you know, so unexpectedly, leaving me and her father bereft.”
“I am sorry. I had heard she died late this past fall.”
“The time has passed so slowly, my despair so deep, it could be ten years,” he said. “After her tragic death I could not look backward or forward. Only recently have I felt the moments of life flicker again within me.”
“I had forgotten how very lovely you speak. Such eloquence, such grace.”
“It is not kind to mock a man who’s known such pain. What I said is true.”
“Was she as young as I was when you married her?”
“She was eighteen, a woman who knew her own mind, a woman grown.”
Hallie shook her head. She picked up the teapot on the side table and poured herself a cup. She sipped it as she looked over at Elgin Sloane, Lord Renfrew. “I have been thinking that females shouldn’t be allowed into society or into the company of men until they are twenty-five.”
He laughed, a dark brow climbing up to what she’d always considered a highly intelligent forehead. “A marvelous jest, my dear. You know very well that no gentleman would wish to wed a female that old.”
“How old are you?”
“I am thirty-one.”
Hallie sat down and drummed her fingertips on the arm of the chair. “My uncle always said that men needed more years to leaven than women. One could think you were far too leavened now.”
“I am considered a young man.”
“And twenty-five is
old for a woman?”
He had to regain control, not that he’d had any sort of firm control over her yet, truth be told.
She toasted him with her teacup. “Goodness, you were far too old for me before, but I was such an infatuated young fool I never even noticed those wrinkles around your eyes. Or perhaps they weren’t there a year and a half ago.”
His hand flew to his face, then, not looking away from her, he slowly lowered his hand back to his side. “I have always loved the way you joke. You will keep me humble, Hallie, a good thing for a man.”
“This is really too much, sir, since—”
There was a horrible crashing sound from the back of the house. Hallie was out of her chair and through the drawing room doorway in an instant.
The kitchen, Lord Renfrew thought, that dreadful noise had come from the kitchen. A man didn’t appear to best advantage in the middle of a mess in a kitchen. Best to remain here, above all the chaos, calm and clear-eyed.
“Good grief, who are you? What’s going on?”
CHAPTER 22
“I, sir, am here to visit Miss Carrick. I believe she just ran back to the kitchen, some sort of female disaster.”
Female disaster? Jason stared long and hard at the elegant vision standing at languid ease in front of him, thinking that he didn’t particularly care for the latest gentlemen’s style. The waist looked too nipped in, the tails too long, altogether unpractical, at least if one were mucking out stalls.
Jason heard a shriek. When he ran into the kitchen, it was to see Cook, Petrie, Martha, Angela, and Hallie bent over coughing, covered with the settling smoke still billowing up from the new Macklin stove. Since he and Hallie had been assured that this modern wonder would be in use until the turn of the century, Jason didn’t believe this to be a propitious beginning. He saw that there was no fire, only smoke. He opened the kitchen door and the three windows and waved.
“Is everyone all right?”
Black tears streaked down Petrie’s face. He was wringing his filthy hands. “Oh, Master Jason, look at what that smoking monster has done to my linen, all spotless only three hours ago, and now look.”
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 111