Araminta (Regency Belles Series Book 2)

by Caroline Ashton

  ‘Excellent.’ The word forced itself between Araminta’s teeth. She replaced the shawl, still folded, over Wilhelmina’s feet and swept towards the door.

  ‘And mind, if there is to be galloping, there must be no charging over hedges as I’ll be bound you do.’

  Araminta swallowed the words that rose immediately to her lips. ‘No, of course not, ma’am.’

  Backing out of the room with almost indecent haste, she hurried along the corridor to her own room. The maligned riding habit lay across the bed with the scandalous pair of men’s drawers she wore under it. The stunning gold velvet clashed spectacularly with the deep ruby chintz covering the bed, the chairs and draped at the single window. She ran to the bellpull and dragged it. For three minutes she fumbled unsuccessfully to undo the back of her white cambric gown until a panting Hollins hurried into the room, forgetting to curtsey.

  ‘Yes, miss?’

  Araminta wriggled her shoulders and jabbed a finger over the left one towards the offending buttons. ‘Help me out of this quickly. I want to ride before . . . I mean . . . oh, just hurry up.’ She turned her back for Hollins to release the row of three cambric-covered buttons down the bodice of her dress. She wriggled her shoulders again until the short sleeves slid down to her elbows. Flapping her hands and dragging the cuffs over her wrists the gown fell to the floor like a soft white cloud. She kicked it away.

  Hollins reached down to rescue it.

  ‘Never mind that, fetch my boots.’ Araminta stepped into the drawers and tightened the cord about her waist. A quick pull had the high-waisted divided skirt up to her hips. She wriggled her arms between the straps and buttoned up the sides. She reached for the short jacket.

  Hollins watched, mouth open, until she roused herself from the fascination of such a garment. ‘Oh, miss,’ she said at last. ‘You’ve forgotten your chemisette.’

  An exasperated groan filled the room. ‘Give it here then.’

  Growing more flustered by the second, Hollins grabbed the tabard-like item, thankful it opened fully down the front and had no sleeves to further delay her mistress. She flung it over Araminta’s shoulders and fumbled to tie the ribbons at one side while Araminta, growling, poked the tiny buttons roughly through the matching holes. She fidgeted until Hollins had tied the other side then grabbed the jacket and levered herself into it. Bouncing onto the bed she stuck out her feet and kicked off her slippers. ‘Boots,’ she commanded.

  Moments later she was gone. An exhausted Hollins slumped onto the bed clutching the abandoned calf slippers.

  Araminta charged headlong down the stairs, regardless of propriety or that her whip was rattling along the spindles of the staircase. She hurried out of the house and sprinted, skirts raised in her hands, round to the stables. The building was impressive, its format traditional. Bordered on three sides by loose boxes, carriage houses and tack rooms with the grooms quarters above, the whole was enclosed on the fourth side of the square by a long brick wall patterned with bas relief columns and with a high arch in the centre. The inner courtyard thus created would easily have housed all the cottages of a small village.

  She ran through the centre arch and almost collided with Lord Frederick.

  ‘Miss Neave!’ Frederick stepped back. ‘Is there some alarm, ma’am?’

  ‘What? Oh, no. Well not really.’

  Frederick studied her flushed face. Turning her away from the groom who was leading Stirling to his loose box, he said. ‘Surely there is something? I beg you will tell me.’

  Araminta screwed up her mouth. ‘Well . . .’ She sighed. ‘Miss Orksville has said she will come down this afternoon.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘No, no of course not. Only . . . well, I don’t mean to be rude about your father’s cousin but Miss Orksville thinks she has been too lax a chaperon. She says I must not ride out with you alone.’ She flicked her whip against the offending velvet. ‘Worse still, she says I must not gallop and certainly not take any fences.’ Her mouth turned down. She looked for all the world like a child deprived of its favourite toy.

  ‘Ah . . .’ Frederick swallowed his disappointment. ‘Well perhaps it is safest if you do not.’

  A fiery glance shot in his direction.

  ‘Although, of course,’ he added hurriedly, ‘you are such an able horsewoman there can be no need for concern.’ He turned to the groom unaccountably lingering with Stirling. ‘Leave him. I’ll take him out again. Miss Neave is minded to ride.’

  The groom had been with the estate since before Frederick was born. He suppressed a smile at the young lord’s struggling conversation with the unusual young miss. Handing over the reins, he walked off to see to the saddling of Pegasus as fast as his gammy leg would permit. In the minutes it took, every other member of stables staff found they had urgent tasks on the far side of the courtyard. The groom led Pegasus out to the stone mounting block. Standing back, he had an excellent view of the scandalous skirt that was denied to the others when Araminta jumped up the steps and mounted. He handed the reins to her. If anyone were to enquire of him, he decided he’d say Lord Frederick and the young miss would suit very well.

  Araminta urged Pegasus into a brisk trot. She passed under the stable arch, heading for the spreading fields beyond the gardens. Frederick kicked his heels into Stirling’s flanks and followed. Buoyed by the results of his morning’s discussion with Archibald Neave, he was intent on finding a way to raise the topic of marriage.

  Conversation was decidedly lacking. Frederick’s mind was wholly concentrated on the subject of marriage. Inspiration eluded him. Araminta failed to notice. Her initial annoyance at the possible – nay, probable restriction of her rides had given way to apprehension that had finally sunk into a thoroughly blue mood. The rides across the estate every morning had swept away all her resentment at the model behaviour she had been obliged her to follow. Every single moment had been a pleasure. The thought of no more freedom to gallop and jump took the light from her eyes and the smile from her face.

  Lost in their own thoughts, Araminta and Frederick walked their horses sedately past a field of ripe corn. The field hands wielding scythes and sickles stopped and turned to watch. The two men nearest the five-barred gate pulled off their caps and bowed. Frederick acknowledged them with a vaguely raised whip.

  Dragged from his cogitation by the sight, he said, ‘When I was a child I used to help them stack the sheaves into rooks.’ He stared wistfully at the field. ‘Of course, that was before I was sent to Eton.’

  Araminta caught his poignant tone. ‘Oh you poor thing.’ She shook her head. ‘I cannot understand why anyone would send a child away from home. I wouldn’t.’

  Surprised, Frederick perceived an opening. ‘Wouldn’t you? You would keep your children by you?’

  ‘Most certainly. It’s barbaric to send them off at such an age. Pa never sent me off.’

  ‘I quite agree. I would much prefer to have them about me too. With my wife, of course. A proper family.’ Frederick reined his horse to a halt. He cleared his throat. ‘Miss Neave . . . Araminta, I must tell you I have asked your father for permission to approach you.’

  Araminta turned Pegasus in a circle until she faced him. ‘Approach me? Approach me about what?’

  Frederick blinked at her. ‘Well . . . about making you an offer.’

  ‘Ah. You mean Pegasus for your mare.’ She shook her head. ‘There was no need. He’d already agreed.’ She urged Pegasus to continue at a faster pace.

  Frederick spurred in pursuit. ‘No . . . no, Miss Neave. Not your horse, ma’am. You.’

  Araminta turned ‘Me?’

  Frederick grabbed her reins and pulled her to a halt. ‘Yes.’

  Araminta was too startled to offer any complaint at his action. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She stared at him and blinked. ‘You’re asking me to marry you
?’

  ‘Of course. You must have noticed how particular I’ve been.’

  ‘Well . . . yes, I suppose I have. I thought . . . I thought we’d become friends.’

  ‘We are. You’re quite the best girl I know. Not at all missish. You don’t faint at loud noises. And you can ride.’

  A warble of laughter greeted this remark. ‘You’d marry me because I’m not missish?’

  Colour crept up his face. He dropped her reins. ‘I’m sorry. I beg your pardon. I see I have quite misunderstood. Permit me to escort you back to Lidgate.’

  ‘Now who’s being missish?’ Araminta caught his sleeve. ‘You really want to marry me?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Knowing I hate parties and don’t want to live in London but in the country with horses?’

  ‘Of course. Could you see me forever dancing attendance there on some pale little flower so she didn’t wail to her Mama?’

  ‘No. I must say I can’t.’

  They stood facing each other while their horses skittered beneath them.

  ‘You’re quite sure you want to marry me?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Araminta studied him. A small frown pleated her forehead. Their gallop had disordered his hair. It framed a face that was open and glowing with health. In no way did he resemble the vacuous creatures she had seen who favoured gaming tables and too much wine. Nor did the wrinkles and creases that usually affected his clothes betray conceit. Not that he couldn’t make the effort when he wanted to. Best of all, he liked horses.

  Frederick shuffled in his saddled under the scrutiny.

  Unaware of the effect of her steady regard, she realised the value she had come to place on his company.

  The scrutiny proved too much. Frederick’s hope began to fade. ‘Don’t you think you could bear company with me?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Easily.’ Araminta looked into his blue eyes. ‘In fact . . . well, I hadn’t quite realised until this morning how much I enjoy you being here. As soon as Miss Orksville said we’d have to stop riding out, well . . .’ Puzzlement covered her face. ‘It’s just that . . . I’d supposed there would be a big crash of emotion. You know, when one . . . knew. Lots of sighing and wilting. That’s what I’ve heard girls chatter about in novels.’ She frowned. ‘And making good matches, of course. But I . . . well, I don’t sigh when I’m with you. I’m most comfortable when I am.’ She looked most urgently at him. ‘I can stop pretending what I’m not.’

  ‘Well, then?’ Frederick urged Stirling closer. He reached for Araminta’s hand. ‘Do please say yes, Miss Neave. I am very partial to you.’

  Much to her surprise, Araminta experienced a significant crash of emotion. She sighed pleasantly. ‘Well . . . if Papa agreed –’

  ‘He did, he did.’

  Araminta adopted her most falsely-simpering expression. ‘Then Lord Frederick Danver, Miss Araminta Primrose Neave is much honoured by your offer and is delighted to accept.’

  She was rewarded with the widest schoolboy grin. ‘Excellent. Excellent.’

  Araminta laughed, then stopped. ‘What about your Papa? Will he agree?’

  ‘I’m sure he will. Eventually. Mama knows and she will help.’

  ‘I hope so. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any . . . difficulty.’

  Frederick dismissed the idea with a wave of his whip. ‘Oh, it will be fine. It will all be fine. Shall we gallop? We really should tell Miss Orksville and Aunt Leonora.’

  ‘And Pa.’

  They grinned at each other.

  ‘Race you,’ Araminta called, spurring Pegasus towards a hawthorn hedge.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Lord Frederick Alexander Danver lifted Miss Araminta Primrose Neave’s fingertips onto the side of his hand and led her into the drawing room of Lidgate Hall.

  Miss Leanora Pencombe looked up from displaying several of her watercolours to Wilhelmina reclining, feet up, on the sofa near the middle window.

  ‘Frederick?’

  Lord Frederick bowed. ‘Pray permit me, ma’am, to present my affianced wife.’

  Araminta grinned.

  Miss Pencombe gawped. Wilhelmina shot upright on the sofa. Neither lady spoke.

  Araminta’s excitement faded. ‘Well say something.’

  Wilhelmina rose rather unsteadily. ‘Come here child. Let me embrace you.’

  Araminta lifted her hand from Frederick’s and hurried forwards. A few hawthorn leaves fluttered down from where they had caught on her gold velvet hem. The gaunt figure of Wilhelmina Orksville put its arms gently round the considerably less gaunt figure of her charge and received a crushing hug in return.

  ‘I am very pleased for you both. I thought all along you had such an interest in common you were bound to become friends.’

  Araminta stood back and held her away. ‘Did you?’ She turned a laughing face to Frederick. ‘Did you hear that?

  Frederick shook his head. ‘I wish we’d known it too, ma’am. And George. He’d have been off to the Continent weeks ago.’

  Miss Pencombe collected her wits and then her sketches. ‘I hate to cast a shadow, but has Mr Neave given his permission?’

  ‘Of course he has, ma’am,’ Frederick bridled. ‘I’m not so lost to propriety as to approach Miss Neave without it.’

  ‘And your dear parents?’ his unofficial aunt queried. ‘I am sure Miss Neave’s character is all one would wish but . . .’ She allowed her voice to trail away.

  ‘Mama understands. I’m sure she will persuade His Grace.’

  ‘Let us hope so. When do you intend to break the good tidings to them?’

  Frederick and Araminta exchanged glances. ‘We’ve decided I should go now.’ He omitted to say their decision was driven by an urgent suspicion that Archibald Neave might present himself at the Duke’s door to announce the news himself. ‘If you’ll excuse me I’ll tell Kidwall to start packing.’ He recaptured Araminta’s hand, kissed it and moved towards the door. It opened in front of him. A beaming Archibald waddled through it.

  ‘Ah, caught you, my boy.’

  Frederick stood back. ‘Sir, I thought you were already gone to London.’

  ‘No, no. It crossed my mind that you’d want to tell your parents as soon as may be. Let us, I thought, travel together. My coach is speedy and we can use the time to become better acquainted.’

  Frederick swallowed. ‘Indeed, sir. An excellent plan. Meantime, may I recall you to my aunt, Miss Pencombe?’

  Archibald waddled forward. ‘Delighted, ma’am, to meet you again. Delighted. And at such an auspicious time too.’ He turned to Wilhelmina. ‘Ma’am, I must thank you for all your help.’

  ‘Not at all. Not at all.’ She folded her hands. ‘You will have no more need of my services now.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Archibald said. ‘Have you forgotten –’

  Araminta grasped Wilhelmina’s hand. ‘Oh no, ma’am. You must not think of leaving. You’ll come with us.’ She turned. ‘Won’t she, Freddie – I mean Lord Frederick?’

  Freddie rose to the occasion. ‘Indeed, ma’am. Miss Neave has grown so accustomed to your company I would not dream of depriving her of it. Now, I beg you to excuse me. If we are to set off promptly I must find Kidwall.’

  He bowed and left the room.

  Miss Pencombe drew herself up to her full height. The top of her faded hair almost reached Araminta’s shoulder. ‘I think perhaps a dish of tea would be appropriate.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Wilhelmina said. ‘And we must make arrangements to remove you to St James.’

  ‘Why?’ Araminta’s brows drew together.

  ‘It is by no means suitable for you to remain here now you are affianced to Lord Frederick. Not even . . .’ Wilhelmina managed a slight inclination of her head, ‘with Miss Pencombe’s presence.’

  That lady was
noticeably lost for any words of agreement during the several seconds it took her to realise that if Araminta were not there, she need not be either. ‘Oh, nonsense.’ She hurried into speech. ‘I am sure there can be no complaint about Miss Neave remaining, ma’am. Particularly as you are still recovering.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Araminta squeezed the hand she still held. ‘You aren’t recovered. Doctor Cuthbert said the air in Town was to be avoided.’

  Archibald burst into speech. ‘I know . . . we shall go to Bath. It’s supposed to be good for invalids.’

  Mild panic painted Miss Pencombe’s strained face. ‘I have heard the waters there can be too strong for a delicate constitution. You wouldn’t wish Miss Orksville to suffer a relapse. Why only last year –’

  Everyone was spared an account of whatever mischance had happened in the previous year by Lord Frederick’s abrupt reappearance.

  ‘I’m ready, sir.’

  ‘Ah, indeed. Indeed.’ Archibald bowed. ‘Ladies, we must leave. ’Minta, I will send the coach back for you. Bath will be just the thing for Wil – I mean Miss Orksville.’ He bowed again and allowed Frederick to usher him out of the room.

  Lord Frederick endured the journey to St James Square with stoicism. He answered every one of Archibald’s many questions with unfailing courtesy but it was with some relief he alighted from the coach the following day.

  ‘I must thank you, sir, for your generosity. There really was no need for you to stand huff for me at the inn.’

  ‘Nonsense, my boy. It was nothing to me.’

  ‘You’re too kind, sir. Won’t you take some refreshment?’

  Archibald waved his hand across the square. ‘No, no. The house is only there. No need to fret your ma and Pa. I’m not going to descend on them at every minute now we’ll be family. If that frets them, you can set them straight.’

  ‘I’m sure, sir . . .’ Frederick began.

  ‘Yes, yes. That’s very pretty of you but I know how your kind views mine. Araminta’s fine but not me. Now, off you go to your Pa and tell him the good news.’ So saying, he pulled the door shut and rapped on the inside of the roof. Waiting only until Kidwall had safely alighted from the rear seat with the bags, the coach lurched away to the opposite side of the square.