Frederick led the horse out of the traces by its mane. The animal tossed its head but followed willingly. ‘There’s no bridle,’ he said to the tollman. ‘Find me a strip of rope.’
The man hurried round the side of the cottage. Moments later he reappeared with a soiled length of rope in his hand. ‘This be all I do ’ave.’
Frederick took it regardless of its state. The mare was not keen on having smelly hemp wrapped round her head. Frederick persevered, persuading her with gentle words. Standing back to admire his handiwork, a thought struck him. ‘I’ll have to ride it bareback. There’s no hope of a saddle.’
‘I can do that. Can’t you?’
‘Of course I can. As long as we don’t gallop.’ Frederick lowered his head and stared at her from under scowling brows. ‘You aren’t going to gallop, are you?’
‘Certainly not.’ Dusty, crumpled and defiant, she lifted her chin. Her eyes danced. ‘Would I ever do anything so unladylike?’
A sharp crack of laughter greeted this remark. ‘Of course you would. At the first opportunity.’
‘You know me too well, my lord.’ Araminta grinned. She grasped Stirling’s reins. ‘Now stop playing the pompous and give me a hoist.’
Frederick obligingly tossed her up into the saddle.
The tollman gasped at the length of female leg displayed. He watched the strange young man half climb the tollgate and slide onto the nag. ‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘they allus say quality’s not like the rest of us. They be right.’
Riding bareback, Lord Frederick Danver prepared to escort his affianced wife down the road.
Chapter Thirty One
Araminta organised herself to ride with one foot in a stirrup and the other leg looped over the low pommel. Her bonnet dangled by its ribbons from one arm. She turned it under critical eyes.
‘I fear I was correct. This is quite beyond repair.’ She untangled the ribbons. ‘I’ll do my best with it. There’ll be enough heads turning when we ride into Bath without giving them cause for more comment.’
Looping the reins over her arm, she prodded the damaged straw into some semblance of shape. A silk rose fell to the ground. Frederick pulled on the rope bridle. ‘Leave it,’ Araminta said. ‘I can manage with the rest.’ She fluffed the petals on the remaining flowers into happier positions then tied the crumpled bonnet onto her curls.
‘I think we should go to Lidgate,’ Frederick announced, eyeing the result and fretting she could have suffered the same fate. ‘I can be sure you will be safe there.’
‘But your Papa? Will he agree to it again?’
Frederick’s hands drooped onto the mare’s neck.
‘What is it? Has His Grace spoken against me?
‘He was somewhat . . . disconcerted.’ He braced himself. ‘I’m certain he will come round once he knows you better.’
Araminta examined his face.
‘Oh, look,’ he said, pointing at a pair of donkeys standing noses together in a field. ‘Aren’t they . . . picturesque?’
‘Freddie,’ she said, sternly. ‘Stop prevaricating. Tell me true. What did he say?’
A deep breath filled Lord Frederick’s chest. His eyes sparked. ‘He took leave to inform me that he would never see me again if we were to marry. And that he would forbid Mama and George to do so too.’
Araminta gasped. ‘Oh, Freddie. That is dreadful.’ She shook her head. ‘I feared he might do something . . . harsh, but I never thought he’d keep you from your Mama. That is cruel.’ A tear gathered at the corner of one eye. She shook her head again, her voice low. ‘There’s no use for it, Freddie. You must lose me, not your family.’
‘Never.’ Frederick’s assertion startled his mount. For several moments he was entirely occupied in bringing it back under control without ignominiously sliding off. ‘No-one, not even His Grace shall stop me from taking you as my wife. I shall find some employment and we shall be fine and dandy.’
Affection flooded into Araminta’s voice. ‘Oh Freddie. I don’t mean to be unkind but what can you do?’ She shook her head. ‘We must ask Pa to help. I –’
‘No!’ Frederick’s horse shied again. ‘No,’ he repeated, stroking its neck. ‘I will not hang on your father’s sleeve. I will go as secretary to some person of note. If George can do it, so can I. You will be my wife and I will support you.’
Araminta assumed a demure expression. ‘Yes, Freddie. If you say so.’
He stared at her. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not scheming, are you?’
‘Of course not,’ Araminta lied. ‘I have every trust in you. There must be many persons of note who require secretaries.’
She allowed the subject to drop. They rode on sedately through the evening light for the remaining few miles until the first of Bath’s buildings came into view. Frederick eyed the drape of Araminta’s gown and then the light from the oil lamps lining the street.
‘I think you may decently ride to the hotel. I’ll dismount and walk beside you. It will hide your gown and almost look as if you’ve a side saddle. With luck, people will not notice your . . . your –’ He cleared his throat. ‘Ankles. They’ll be engaged in assuming there’s a problem with my saddle.’ He frowned. ‘It’s as well you’re unknown here. We’ve no groom to escort us.’
Araminta kept all expression from her face. ‘People might assume we are man and wife. Or brother and sister.’
‘Of course.’ A burden slipped from his mind. ‘And it’s darkening so fast no-one will see your hair.’
Mischief invaded Araminta’s mind and almost escaped in an unwise comment. She bit it back. Dear Frederick was concerned enough already. His sense of humour was too over-tried to appreciate flippant comments about unfashionable red hair.
At the hotel, Frederick helped Araminta dismount. He held out one set of reins and one grubby rope to the ostler who ran from the building. Looking for all the world as if there was nothing the least degree unusual, he escorted Araminta up to Miss Orksville.
Wilhelmina swayed, hand to chest, when they entered the sitting room. ‘Child.’ She stumbled forward and seized Araminta’s hands in hers. ‘I am so sorry. How could I have let you into the company of that . . . that . . . person?’
‘Please don’t fret, ma’am.’ Araminta extracted a hand and patted the thin shoulder. ‘I am fine now. Only my bonnet was damaged, not I. Look.’
She pulled the ribbons and held out the mangled remains.
It attracted little attention. ‘We must remove from here immediately. And your father must be told.’
‘May I beg to differ, ma’am?’
Wilhelmina directed a surprised stare at Lord Frederick. ‘Why so, sir? It is imperative that she gains her father’s protection as soon as may be.’
‘I believe it will be better to inform Mr Neave and ask him to send his coach. You arrived in it. A hasty departure by any other means will only raise speculation in the curious.’
‘But you’ve only just I’m unknown here.’ Araminta tossed the deformed bonnet onto the settee. ‘Why should anyone take an interest in how I leave?’
‘You might be unknown, ma’am, but Miss Orksville is not. You have been seen in her company and . . .’ He indicated her titian curls. ‘And once seen I doubt you would be forgotten.’
‘You are unconscious concerned about my hair, sir.’
‘No but –’
Wilhelmina hurried into speech. ‘Of course you are right, Lord Frederick. I shall pen a note to Mr Neave immediately.’ She seated herself at the small table and extracted a sheet of paper from the writing case on it. ‘If you would be kind enough to convey it to the post office for me.’
Frederick bowed. ‘Of course, ma’am.’
‘Good.’ She began to scratch spidery words on the paper. ‘I’ll assure him we will remain indoors until the coa
ch arrives. There will be no repeat of this sort of thing.’ She finished writing, laid down the quill and rocked the blotter over the wet ink. ‘As far as the hotel is concerned, Araminta shall have contracted a cold. Naturally I shall stay by her side.’ She stuck a wafer on the folded page and inscribed the front.
Frederick took the letter from her, bowed, and with a last, fulsome glance at Araminta took himself off.
The third afternoon of Araminta’s incarceration was shattered by the sounds of a carriage arriving at full pelt outside and her father’s voice instructing his coachman at full volume. She dropped her book on the settee and ran to the window.
‘Pa’s here. Oh how wonderful.’
Moments later the door was flung open and the portly figure of Archibald Neave waddled into the room.
‘ ’Minta. Thank God you’re safe.’ He hurried forward and clasped his arms round her. His face disappeared in the ruffles at her neckline. ‘Whatever were you thinking of to go off like that?’
‘I fear I am to blame,’ Wilhelmina said. ‘I should have discovered more about Mrs Tanner before letting her visit her house.’
‘No you’re not,’ Araminta repeated for the fourth time that morning. ‘We had no way of knowing she was . . . who she was.’
‘Trelowen’s mistress, you mean,’ Archibald pronounced, unaware of Wilhelmina’s eyebrows shooting up. ‘And what of him? Has he the gall to show his face?’
‘I don’t know, Pa. I haven’t heard of him.’
‘I’ve sent Pilton with the coach for Lord Freddie. We’ll hear what he has to say.’ Some of the fire deserted the plump face. He dropped his hat on the settee and slumped down beside it. ‘I’ve been so fretted, girl. God knows what might have become of you.’ He shook his head. ‘Mr Blythburgh fears his lordship will call Trelowen out.’
‘What? Oh no, Pa. We must stop him.’
‘Mr Neave,’ Wilhelmina interrupted. ‘How did Mr Blythburgh know of the happenings?’
‘Oh, I called on him. He came down with me. Gone to fetch Lord Freddie with Pilton.’
‘I think you were mistaken to tell Mr Blythburgh. Or indeed, anyone, what has happened.’ Wilhelmina stared at her employer’s face. ‘You didn’t tell anyone else, I hope.’
‘Only the Duke.’
‘What?’ Wilhelmina’s well-modulated tones rose to a shriek. ‘Oh that was most unwise. His Grace will be even less disposed to our girl now he knows of it.’
‘I don’t see why. It’s not as if it were her fault the scoundrel kidnapped her.’
‘No, but ladies of quality do not attract that sort of attention.’
Archibald bounded to his feet, in as much as he was able. ‘Trelowen is everywhere received. Or so you said. And it’s not Araminta’s fault she’s such a fine-looking girl compared to the milksops around.’
Wilhelmina’s sharp response was stopped by a knock on the door. All three turned. Hollins entered with a heavily-laden tray.
‘Ah, good. I called for some sustenance as soon as I set foot here.’ Archibald rubbed his hands. ‘Good. Ham, bread. And a decent piece of cheese.’ He scowled. ‘Is that ale, girl?’
‘Yes, sir. The hotel’s own brew. Very good it is.’ Hollins blushed guiltily. ‘Or so I’ve heard.’
Araminta and Wilhelmina watched the consumption of the ham, bread and cheese in stunned silence for several minutes. At last Araminta spoke.
‘What did His Grace say, Pa?’ she asked faintly.
Archibald chewed rapidly and swallowed. ‘Not very much. He’s not a man to give much away. He nodded when I told him how grateful I was that his boy had rescued you. Told him he was one to be proud of.’
‘Anything else?’ Wilhelmina’s voice was as weak as Araminta’s.
The head was shaken and another bite of cheese taken. ‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘Said he’d come and see for himself.’
‘Come himself?’ Araminta’s cheeks paled. ‘The Duke is coming here?’
‘Course he is. What parent wouldn’t?’
His Grace, the ninth Duke of Ellonby topped Araminta’s list in that category. She sat down heavily on the windowsill. ‘The Duke? Coming here?’
‘Yes. What’s wrong with that?’ Archibald demanded.
‘Oh, nothing,’ his daughter answered.
Chapter Thirty Two
The magnificent cortège that drew up outside York House Hotel some short time later brought all other traffic to an abrupt and curious halt. The carriage alone was worth several glances, from the four matched greys in the traces, to the gleaming body with an elaborate coat of arms on the doors, to the haughty features of the coachman and the two liveried footmen at the back. Four outriders, two at the front and two following wore the same dark livery, laced and embroidered with gold braid.
Both footmen leapt down and ran to the door. They opened it and let down the step. One stood, crooked arm raised, by the door. The other held it wide. A slender gentleman dressed in a midnight blue coat and cream pantaloons descended. He paused on the pavement and looked back at the carriage. A vision in deep lavender silk emerged. The finest Valentines lace fluttered at the neck and cuffs and deep flounces weighted the hem. It wore a matching spencer of corded silk, frogged with silver lacings. Lengths of silver fox drooped from slender arms. The whole was topped by a magnificent bonnet laden with violets and satin bows.
The gentleman extended his hand to the vision. He guided her towards the doorway. The Neave’s coach drew up behind and two young gentlemen descended. They hurried after the magnificent pair. A few words with the manager, hovering, hands gripped and chest heaving from the exertion of hurtling down from the third floor, brought the visitors up a single flight of stairs to the door of the best suite. The manager knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.
‘Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Ellonby’, he intoned.
Araminta, eyes wide, jumped up from her seat at the little table. Wilhelmina rose with more elegance.
‘And gentlemen,’ the manager added, before bowing himself out of the way.
Araminta dropped a curtsey, deeper and shakier than that of Wilhelmina. Archibald creaked as he bowed.
The Duchess advanced, one hand extended. ‘Miss Orksville, I trust you are well recovered from your ordeal?’
‘Thank you, Your Grace, very much so.’
‘I believe you have not made the acquaintance of His Grace.’
‘Indeed not. I must thank you, sir, for the care extended to me under your roof. Your Grace, pray allow me to present Miss Neave.’ Wilhelmina beckoned Araminta forwards.
‘Your Graces,’ she whispered, curtseying again.
‘Miss Neave.’ The Duke inclined his head.
His wife was much less formal. ‘My dear, what a dreadful experience for you. You were unharmed I hope?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Lord Frederick . . .’ she looked beyond their Graces at Frederick hovering by the door with Mr Blythburgh, ‘Lord Frederick’s arrival was most . . . fortunate.’ The expression on Frederick’s face filled her with anxiety.
‘May I offer Your Graces some refreshment?’ Wilhelmina asked.
‘Thank you, no. I think we have some business to settle,’ the Duke answered.
Everett Blythburgh stepped forward. ‘Your Grace, I believe this to be family business. With your permission, I will retire.’
‘Certainly not. You have been party to this relationship. Your opinion is pertinent.’
Everett swallowed. ‘As Your Grace wishes.’
‘Pray be seated,’ Wilhelmina said, indicating the settee angled by the fireplace.
The Duke led his wife to it and waited until she was sitting with her gown and furs arranged to her satisfaction before seating himself. Wilhelmina took herself to the chair opposite and indicated to Araminta to resume her position at the small writing table. Archi
bald hovered beside her. After a second’s hesitation, Frederick took station on her other side, casting a meaningful glance at her troubled face. Everett remained by the door.
Nobody spoke.
Seconds passed during which the Duke examined Araminta closely. Colour mounted in her cheeks under his scrutiny. Eventually the Duke drew breath.
‘Miss Neave, I am given to understand that my son was instrumental in your rescue.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Araminta’s voice was barely audible. She clenched her hands in her skirts to stop herself reaching out for Frederick.
‘I further understand that he has made you an offer which you have accepted.’
The tension proved too great. Araminta bounded to her feet. ‘He has, sir. And he has told me of your decision to bar him from your family if he proceeds.’ She took three hasty steps forward, ignoring Wilhelmina’s horrified face and raised hands. ‘I know I’m only a tradesman’s daughter, but I’m decent enough not to cause the estrangement you threaten.’ Bright tears sprang to her eyes. ‘There was no need for you to distress him so. You could have written to me privately and I would have declined him.’
In all his years, Frederick had never heard anyone address his father in such a fashion. ‘I say, Araminta –’
The Duke silenced him with a single gesture. ‘So? And now?’
A single tear overflowed. ‘I shall withdraw.’ She swallowed.
‘No you will not.’ Frederick stepped forward and possessed himself of her hand. ‘Your Grace, I am determined to wed Miss Neave no matter what you say.’
His Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘And live off her father no doubt.’
‘Sir, you do me an injustice. I know you are barely acquainted with me and George but you might at least give me some credit.’
The Duke stared at his son in silence for several seconds. ‘I see I have fallen into error. Pray then, enlighten me as to how you will support Miss Neave in an acceptable manner.’
‘I shall take some employment. I intend to apply to be secretary to . . . to someone.’
‘You must forgive me. I was unaware you were qualified for such business. Indeed unqualified for any business that did not focus on horses.’
Araminta (Regency Belles Series Book 2) Page 26