“But there’s more than jam in here,” Mr. Fleming said. He reached into the basket and held up a small package neatly wrapped and tied up with string. “What do we have here?”
“It’s a present for your sister,” Mrs. Nichols said shyly. “Just a little sumpin’ I made for her.”
“Let me see, Stephen.” Miss Fleming took the package and untied the string to hold up two lacy handkerchiefs. “You made these for me?”
“Yes’um. A lady can always use a handkerchief, carn’t she?” The worry returned to Mrs. Nichols’s face.
“But they’re beautiful,” Miss Fleming praised. “Look, Stephen. See how tiny the stitches are. They’re so fine and delicate I shall have to be very careful not to sneeze too hard in them.”
Color flooded Mrs. Nichols’ face. “Ah, go along with ye, Miss.”
“You must come and have tea with us at the rectory,” Miss Fleming said. “And we shall have some of your jam with Mrs. Crawford’s wonderful scones.”
The woman darted a glance at Mrs. Tarwater and Mrs. Baker and her color deepened, “Ar, I carn’t do that, Miss.” She glanced towards the doorway, before jerking a curtsey. “I hafta go see after my Sadie.”
She bolted from the room without a backward glance and Mrs. Tarwater gave the Flemings a patronizing smile. “You might want to be careful about that jam, Mr. Fleming,” she said. “Hattie Nichols has any number of dogs running about her home. It’s not the cleanest one in your parish. And as for the handkerchiefs, I’ve no doubt she bought them from a passing tinker. She’s such a simple soul, she probably just wanted to impress you.”
“She did.” Something resembling anger flared in Miss Fleming’s eyes. “I’d say her kindness in bringing us these gifts was a perfect example of Stephen’s sermon this morning. Did you arrive in time to hear it? For it was a message you certainly—”
“There you are, Cam.” Perdita’s voice broke into what was about to become a very lively discussion—too lively for the parish hall. “I’m sorry I’m late, but the choirmaster just asked me to sing a solo on Christmas Eve and we were going over the music. He wants me to sing Rejoice from Messiah. Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Marvelous,” Cam echoed trying not to groan out loud at the answering anger that sparkled in Mrs. Tarwater’s eyes. The first thing she would do when her husband returned from his trip to London would be to tell him about this conversation with Miss Fleming.
Perdita took Miss Fleming by arm. “Come, Miss Fleming. You must let me introduce you to some of our younger folks. No doubt you’ve been so busy setting up the rectory that you’ve not had time to meet them. I’ll bring her back soon, Mr. Fleming.”
Still talking, she pulled Miss Fleming beside her. Cam had never been more grateful for his beloved sister’s propensity to chatter or to not recognize a socially awkward situation even when she walked right into it.
“Well,” Mrs. Tarwater said tightly. “I mustn’t keep you from getting a cup of tea, Mr. Fleming. Come, Amelia.”
She strode away, a wide-eyed Mrs. Baker trailing after her. Still clutching the basket, Mr. Fleming shrugged helplessly at Cam. “Sisters,” he said. “What can you do with them?”
“Indeed,” Cam said. “Indeed.”
Especially yours.
Chapter Four
“Cecily Tarwater, Amelia Baker and Grace Hopewell are just old biddies who can’t keep their noses out of everyone else’s business—especially the first two. It’s no wonder their husbands go to London so often on business.” Lady Perdita gave her horse Bandit, a gentle nudge with her foot. “I’d stay away too if I were them.”
Much to Amanda’s relief, Lady Perdita appeared on horseback at the rectory after luncheon with a mounted groom and a gleaming chestnut mare named Daisy for Amanda. After Stephen’s gentle, but firm reprimand after church regarding the way she spoke to the wives of the senior and junior wardens, Amanda felt grateful for the chance to escape for an hour or so. She was still smarting a bit from his horrified reaction when she told him about her and Hamish’s encounter with St. Cloud at the inn, after his and Lady Perdita’s visit.
“Mandy, please, please be careful,” he had begged. “I know you mean well, but please try not let other people annoy you into speaking your mind. Especially the earl.”
After riding back to Heart’s Ease, the groom was quickly dispatched, and the two young women set forth for an afternoon of riding over the estate.
The day turned colder, and the snow crunched beneath their horses’ hooves. A breeze ruffled the ribbons of their riding hats, but the cloudless blue sky, stretched above them like a landscape in a Dutch painting. Amanda laughed at her new friend’s delicious description of the three ladies and asked, “Are you always so forthright, Lady Perdita?”
“Oh, please do call me Perdita,” the younger woman begged. “Or at least do so when we’re alone. People at my school were so afraid of my brother Cam being an earl, I never really felt as though I had any friends. Either the staff feared I’d be unhappy and he would move me to another school, or the other girls only wanted to know about him and not about me.”
“They wanted you to play matchmaker,” Amanda guessed. “Praise their virtues so he might want to meet them, fall in love and marry them.”
“Exactly.” Perdita waved her riding crop in the air. “But they were all much too young and far too silly for him. Cam doesn’t like silliness. And he especially dislikes it when women are too outspoken.”
Women like me, you mean. Amanda absently stroked Daisy’s neck. “Stephen often has to caution me about speaking my mind,” she admitted. “He says it’s not ladylike.”
“Aren’t brothers sometimes the biggest boors?” Perdita groaned. “Cam always scolds me for the same thing. But sometimes the words just tumble out of me. I simply can’t help it.”
“How well I know,” Amanda agreed. “Has any lady lived up to his lordship’s expectations?”
Perdita shrugged. “There’s Lucy Guest, Viscount Pembroke’s daughter. She’s a little older than I am and a perfect lady. She never has a hair out of place, always wears that little smile and never says, much less does, anything troublesome. I like her, but she wouldn’t know how to say boo to a goose.”
Amanda could not stop her laughter. “You do indeed speak your mind, don’t you, Perdita?”
Perdita joined in Amanda’s mirth. “I suppose I shouldn’t, but sometimes it’s so much fun to say what one thinks. I’d like to see Lucy’s face if I did say something outrageous. Cam has known her for ages and I think he likes her well enough. She just finished three years at a terrifically expensive finishing school in Darbyshire before making her bow this past spring. Lucy loves pretty clothes and she’s always bang up to the knocker, so it’s a good thing her papa is plump in the pockets or he’d be on the rocks from the cost of her wardrobe. Not that she needs fancy dresses. She’s so pretty she could wear a kitchen maid’s dress and still be stunning.”
She paused for breath, and Amanda tried not to laugh at Perdita’s use of popular cant. Before she could start up again, Amanda asked, “With all her advantages, has Miss Guest expressed no interest in anyone? Or received any offers?”
“She could get any proposal just by crooking her little finger,” Perdita scoffed. “But she turned down half a dozen requests just to call on her, or so the on-dits say, which is why I think she’s waiting for Cam to propose. I think he will ask her to marry him any day now, but he’ll have to wait until Lucy’s great aunt Adelaide arrives. She’s devoted to Lucy and would never give her approval if a proposal were made and she wasn’t there. Lucy is certainly suitable enough.”
“Suitable?” Amanda pulled Daisy to a stop. “You mean he doesn’t love her?”
Perdita shrugged. “You have to understand about Cam’s sense of duty,” she said. “He’s terribly proud of being Saint Cloud. Our family goes back five hundred years and he would die rather than dishonor our name. Not just anyone can become his countess. It’s a huge res
ponsibility. He would never marry someone who’s not up to the task.”
“And you, Lady Perdita?” Amanda affected the haughty tone of a dowager. “Whom shall you marry?”
“I shall marry only for love,” Perdita said stoutly. “Of course, it won’t hurt a bit if he’s young and rich and handsome. A real out-and outer who will agree with me on everything.”
“You’re a lady,” Amanda reminded her. “You can’t marry a man who doesn’t meet with your brother’s approval.”
“I’m so tired of being reminded that,” Perdita groaned again. “Sometimes I long to do something so outrageously un-ladylike, that all those old village busybodies will have the vapors at the same time.”
Amanda laughed again. “What on earth would you do? Become a blue-stocking?”
“Not quite that outrageous,” Perdita said. “But I’ll share a secret with you. I’ve always longed to ride astride. It seems like it would be such wild fun. Have you ever ridden astride, Amanda?”
“Well—”
“You have?” Perdita stopped Bandit by a large stump and stared at Amanda, excitement brightening her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes,” Amanda admitted reluctantly. “On my parents’ farm when I was younger. Stephen and I would race, and riding astride made it easier.”
“Then let’s ride astride right now and have a race. I’ll bet Bandit here is just itching for one.” Perdita started to dismount.
“Perdita, we can’t,” Amanda protested. “Our brothers would kill us both. I’m sure the earl won’t like it. And besides, we’re riding side-saddle.”
“Fiddlesticks! What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Perdita insisted, continuing her ascent. “Come help me with these skirts, Amanda.”
“Perdita, I really think we should not—”
“Are you afraid I’ll beat you?” Perdita challenged. “We’ll just race to that big tree over there and back.”
“But it must be at least half a mile,” Amanda said. “We can’t race astride that far in a side-saddle.”
“Why not?”
Oh Lord, what am I getting myself into? Withholding her sigh, Amanda got off her horse, helped Perdita re-mount so she sat astride before getting back on Daisy, and sitting in the same fashion.
“This certainly feels…unusual,” Perdita admitted, guiding Bandit in a circle. “Very unusual. I wonder that men like it.”
“I still think this a bad idea, Perdita,” Amanda cautioned. “If your brother finds out—”
“But he won’t,” Perdita said. “Not unless you tell him. Are you ready?”
Knowing further protests were useless, Amanda gave in to the inevitable. “Ready.”
“One. Two. Three. Go!” Perdita shouted, and they were off.
For someone riding astride for the first time, Perdita was very good. The air rushed by Amanda’s ears, and she gripped Daisy with her knees. The mare was smaller and lighter than Bandit, but appeared to have no trouble keeping up. The tree loomed ahead, and a sudden gust of breeze struck them, blowing off Amanda’s hat and freeing her loosely piled hair. Her curls tumbled about her shoulders, but she leaned low, and lightly kicked Daisy’s ribs.
“Come on, Daisy!” she shouted. “Come on, girl!”
“Oh, this is wonderful!” Perdita shouted as they galloped side by side. “I think from now on, I shall ride astride all the time! What a capital idea!”
Amanda laughed, caught up in the excitement. Then as she looked ahead at the stump, her heart plummeted to her toes. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “It’s your brother.”
Sure enough, standing up in the back of a small, open carriage stopped by the stump, his arms folded over his chest, was the Earl of St. Cloud. Even from the remaining distance, Amanda knew he was angry—very angry.
Perdita must have seen her brother as well, because she sat up in the saddle and urged Bandit to a walk.
The earl still didn’t move, only stood staring at them. Beside him on the seat sat an extraordinarily beautiful young woman in a bright blue traveling ensemble.
“Who’s that?” Amanda whispered as they slowly approached the carriage and its occupants. The woman spoke to the earl, who nodded. The driver sat expressionless behind a lone horse.
“That’s Lucy Guest,” Perdita whispered back. “The girl I told you that Cam might marry.”
“I see.” Amanda’s fingers curled around Daisy’s reins. Lucy Guest was a Dresden miniature come to life, all pink cheeks against porcelain skin and big blue eyes. Blonde curls peeked out from her bonnet, and her composed features completed the image of a perfect lady and the perfect bride for an earl.
Certainly not like a young woman who went riding astride like a hoyden, or worse.
“Hello, Cam,” Perdita called as they reached the carriage. “Hello, Lucy. I didn’t know you were in Huntingdown.”
“We’ve only just arrived,” Lucy Guest said serenely. “I’m delighted to see you again, Perdita.” She blinked several times and her expression shifted into one of faint horror. “My goodness, are you riding astride?”
Perdita shot Amanda a quick, defiant glance before turning it on Lucy and the earl. “Yes, we are,” she said. “Amanda was telling me how she used to race her brother by riding astride, and so I challenged her to a race doing the same. Lucy, this is my friend, Amanda Fleming. Her brother is the new rector at All Souls. Amanda, this is Lucy Guest, Viscount Pembroke’s daughter.”
“Perdita, what do you think you’re doing?” St. Cloud’s soft voice bit off the words in a slow, dangerous rhythm and a chill slid down Amanda’s spine. A tiger’s growl would have been less menacing. So would its eyes.
“Racing, Cam.” Perdita’s voice wobbled, but her gaze at her brother did not waiver.
“Go home, Perdita,” he ordered. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“But—”
“Now, Perdita. I’ll have George here come to the rectory later to collect Daisy.”
“No, you won’t.” Perdita raised her chin. “Daisy is my horse and I’m going to let Amanda keep her at the rectory so we can go riding again soon. It’s silly to drag poor Daisy back and forth—”
“I said we’ll talk about this later, Perdita,” St. Cloud repeated. “Please go home.”
Making a sound suspiciously like a snort, Perdita urged Bandit forward and St. Cloud turned his attention on Amanda. Anger shimmered in the depths of his cobalt-hued eyes as they raked over her, taking in her missing hat and windblown curls. She shivered beneath her habit, and tightened her grip on Daisy’s reins, praying he wouldn’t see her hands tremble.
“Miss Fleming,” St. Cloud said formally. “I would appreciate it if in the future you would not indulge my sister in her whims. As the elder, you should know better than to let her put herself at risk for grave injury or worse.”
“I tried to talk her out of it, my lord,” Amanda defended. “Really I did.”
“Obviously not hard enough, as you telling her of your own experiences riding astride can attest. Perdita is easily led by suggestion, especially by those she admires, which includes you, even after so short an acquaintance. Good day to you, Miss Fleming. You may keep Daisy at the rectory for now. Take us home, George.”
The groom waited until St. Cloud was seated before clucking at the horse and turned the carriage around. Miss Guest had not spoken a single word to Amanda, but the set of her mouth told Amanda all she needed to know about the other young woman’s opinion of her. It was not one that suggested a hoped for continuing of their recent acquaintance.
There was nothing left for Amanda to do but retrieve her hat, and go home to tell Stephen of her latest blunder.
Chapter Five
She looked like a Viking princess. All wild blonde hair and flashing eyes astride her horse. All she needed was a sword.
“My lord?” Viscountess Emmaline Pembroke raised her voice.
Cam blinked and looked at his guests. Oakley and Mrs. Shelton, the St. Cloud’s cook, were setting down t
he enormous tea trays on a table between Perdita and the Pembrokes. Perdita nodded her acceptance and the servants departed, closing the door behind them.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Emmaline. I was just pondering that very question,” Cam said. Pull yourself together, man! Most definitely not the thing to fall asleep when you’ve invited guests to tea.
“I was saying, might we hope you will hold the annual Winter Ball?” the Viscountess asked. “It’s been so many years since the last one. And now that Lady Perdita is old enough to act as your hostess, how shall we persuade you?”
Nodding, Cam crossed his legs and said, “I think you’re right, Lady Emmaline. This is the perfect opportunity for Perdita to practice her hostess skills. And now that you have arrived, our circle of friends from London is nearly complete.” How on earth did a clergyman’s daughter learn to ride astride?
Lady Emmaline gave him a fond smile. “Shall it be a fancy dress ball or some other kind of event? Lady Perdita, what are your thoughts?”
“I think a formal ball will be wonderful, but I’m sure we’ll do whatever Cam thinks is suitable.” From behind the safety of the tea table, Perdita fluttered her eyelashes in a parody of innocence. But the set of her smile—so like their mother’s when she was crossed—told Cam Perdita’s irritation with him over stopping her wild ride with Miss Fleming yesterday afternoon, remained. Galloping over the estate like a hoyden! Surely Perdita saw the folly in such?
“How’s the new rector settling in?” Viscount Pembroke’s question thankfully changed the subject. “Where’d you find him, St. Cloud?”
“The Reverend Stephen Fleming came highly recommended by the Master of Balliol at Oxford.” Cam passed his empty plate to Perdita. “Fleming took a double first there his last year.”
“Very impressive,” Pembroke said. “Does he preach well?”
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