by Tuft, Karen
Kit could hardly wait until he’d handed Lady Walmsley and Elizabeth into the care of the Marquess and Marchioness of Ashworth, had paid his respects to them and to Anthony, had inquired after the state of health of Amelia, and could make his way home to Cantwell Hall.
Being at home would give him something to do—meeting with his steward and visiting his tenants—and help him find the fortitude to keep his word to Elizabeth. He would be her friend.
The main doors of the manor swung open, and Anthony himself came out and hurried to greet them as they exited the coaches. “Aunt Margaret! You are here—oh, that will lift Amelia’s spirits immensely.” He took both of her hands and kissed her cheek affectionately.
“And how is my grandniece?” Lady Walmsley asked, a concerned look on her face. “And why in heaven’s name are you here with us and not with her?”
“She is well enough, Aunt,” Anthony said. “The doctor has high hopes for both of his patients, even the one not yet born. Amelia has been resting, but she will be delighted to see you once you have refreshed yourself.”
“Margaret, here you are at last!” Lady Ashworth exclaimed from the doorway. She rushed down to Lady Walmsley and hugged her. “Thank you for coming so swiftly. We have all been so concerned.” She linked her arm through Lady Walmsley’s and led her up the stairs and inside the house, so Kit could hear no more of the conversation.
Anthony, after watching Lady Walmsley join his mother, turned to Kit next. “My dear friend, I cannot thank you enough for bringing Aunt Margaret to Amelia. As you can plainly tell by Mama’s completely overlooking your presence, she has been overwrought since Amelia took to her bed. As we all have been. My apologies.”
“Think nothing of it, Tony,” Kit said.
“It has been a great relief to us all, you know, to have you watching over Amelia’s beloved aunt. Let’s get you all inside for some refreshment,” Anthony said, and then he stopped short. “Who is that?”
Kit turned in the direction Anthony was looking, despite already knowing whom Anthony had spotted. Elizabeth lingered near the coach, her face turned away from the house, and was currently huddled with her maid, speaking quietly to her.
“Why, it’s Lady Elizabeth Spaulding!” Anthony exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Why the devil has she come here with you and Aunt Margaret?”
“That is a question best put to ‘Aunt Margaret,’ if you wish a complete answer,” Kit said. “Suffice it to say, she has been your aunt’s guest for the past few weeks.”
“Has she now?” Anthony rubbed his chin in thought. “Her guest, you say. That is a wholly unexpected turn of events. I must think how best to handle this; I won’t have her upsetting Amelia.”
“Do you think she would?” Kit asked, surprised at the heat that rose within him at Anthony’s comment.
“Not intentionally, no. I learned enough of Lady Elizabeth’s character last summer to know that much about her. But her father and the memories . . . I will not have Amelia reminded of the ordeal she went through when she is already in a vulnerable state.”
“I completely understand and couldn’t agree more. And I think Elizabeth would say the same thing.” He watched Elizabeth’s maid hurry off to join Lady Walmsley’s servants. Elizabeth remained near the coach, apparently finding something very interesting about the cobblestone pavement beneath her feet. “But she is here nonetheless.”
“Elizabeth, eh? We are on familiar terms with the lady, are we?”
“I have played escort to her and Lady Walmsley—at your request, remember—as she has been Lady Walmsley’s particular guest. And so, yes, we have reached somewhat familiar terms.” He smiled at his childhood friend, but he was irked by the insinuation in his question.
“Rest assured, Kit, we will do what we can to help her feel welcome,” Anthony said, and then he strode over to the coach and extended his hand to Elizabeth. Kit was too far away to hear what Anthony said to her, but when she looked up to return his greeting, she had transformed once again into the statue, the unreachable daughter of the Duke of Marwood. She held out her hand to Anthony, who bowed over it. Kit watched Anthony gesture toward the house. She nodded. They walked past Kit, and not once did she look at him, which tore through his heart as though he’d been pierced by an arrow.
He fell into line behind them and followed them into the house.
***
Ashworth Park looked much as Elizabeth remembered it. She had spent a good deal of time here over the years. Her parents and she had been invited as guests of the marquess and marchioness, particularly after Elizabeth had made her come-out, the hope being that she and Alex would come to an understanding and set a wedding date.
The entry hall was spacious, with gilded ceilings rising two stories and boasting murals of clouds and cherubs that encircled a crystal chandelier and seemed intent on soaring heavenward. Niches in the walls held sculptures and works of art that were exchanged with other sculpture and artwork on a regular basis, offering variety, and a large staircase inlaid with marble led to the first floor.
Lord Halford took her gently by the elbow and led her toward his mother, who, in her relief at seeing Aunt Margaret, Elizabeth presumed, had not noticed much else, and had certainly not seen Elizabeth, which had suited Elizabeth, for she had been trying desperately not to be noticed.
Elizabeth now hoped Lady Ashworth wouldn’t notice Elizabeth’s heart beating like a frantic bird within her chest. It must be apparent to anyone who even glanced her way, she was certain.
“Mama,” Lord Halford said. “See who else has joined us.”
Both Lady Ashworth and Aunt Margaret turned, and Elizabeth watched Lady Ashworth’s face go ashen.
“There you are, my dear!” Aunt Margaret said, rushing to her. “I hope you will forgive me for having such scattered thoughts today. I left you completely on your own. Eleanor, this dear girl has been such a treasure to me these past few weeks; I don’t know how I got along without her before.”
Lady Ashworth appeared to have regained some of her composure, and her face was not so pale now. “Lady Elizabeth,” she said, taking Elizabeth’s hands in her own for a quick squeeze. “I will confess I had not expected you, but you are most certainly welcome. I, uh—perhaps you would all like to refresh yourselves after such a long journey, and then I will send for tea. Or luncheon? Would that be more to your liking? Ah, Ashworth, see, our guests have arrived.” Elizabeth had never seen Lady Ashworth so flustered before. She understood and empathized completely.
Lord Ashworth, Elizabeth could see, was walking toward them from the corridor that led to his study. Elizabeth had never been inside the study but knew of its whereabouts. She’d become fairly familiar with the manor house at Ashworth Park during her visits.
He went first to Aunt Margaret and raised her hand for a kiss. “Margaret, so good to see you again. And here is Cantwell too, you rogue.” He shook Kit’s hand. “And . . .” He stopped short, his brow furrowing. “Lady Elizabeth?” He looked at Kit for an answer, who then looked at Aunt Margaret.
It was Lady Ashworth who answered. “Lady Elizabeth has been Margaret’s guest for the past few weeks, Ashworth. May we offer our condolence to you and your mother on the passing of your father, Lady Elizabeth? We were shocked when the news reached us.”
“Allow me to echo my dear wife’s words,” Lord Ashworth said before glancing at his son. The irony of that look wasn’t lost on Elizabeth, since Anthony had dueled with her father, and either of them could have lost their life that fateful day.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied. The fewer words said, the better, at this point.
“How does my dear Amelia fare?” Aunt Margaret said. “I do long to see her.”
“She is well enough, but when I checked on her not long ago, she was asleep. She will be overjoyed to see you when she awakens though. Come, let me show you both to your rooms. Kit, are y
ou planning to stay for tea?”
“No, Lady Ashworth, thank you for inviting me, but I believe I will ride home and make sure my steward hasn’t made off with the fine silver,” Kit said. “However, perhaps I could return this afternoon and invite Lady Elizabeth to walk with me. We have been coach-bound for the past two days, and the chance to stretch our legs would be welcome, at least it would be for me.” He looked at Elizabeth for an answer.
“I—” she began, feeling uncertain. “Why, yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”
“And that will give me a chance to visit my dear Amelia this afternoon without worry, for Elizabeth will be in your good hands,” Aunt Margaret said.
“Excellent,” Kit said. “I shall return at four this afternoon, then.” He nodded to everyone and began to take his leave.
“I’ll see you to the door,” Lord Halford said, and the two of them left together.
Elizabeth suddenly panicked. Right now, Kit’s coach seemed her only opportunity to escape the nightmare of being here at Ashworth Park. She quelled the urge to dash after them.
“We will put you in your usual guest room, Lady Elizabeth,” Lady Ashworth said as she and Aunt Margaret started up the grand staircase, apparently expecting Elizabeth to follow them, which she did, but not before glancing at Lord Ashworth. His brow was still furrowed, and as he returned her gaze, he seemed to be sending her a tacit caution—that she should do nothing to disturb the peace his family had found over the past year, or there would be a reckoning.
Elizabeth tried to give him a smile of reassurance, even though it faltered; she doubted it would mean anything to the marquess anyway, considering what his family had been through at the hands of the Marwood family. Thank heaven, Kit would be returning later this afternoon. The next few hours were bound to feel like an eternity.
She wondered why he would offer to take her walking since he’d been so distant the past few days. Most likely, it was guilt, as a result of what she’d said to him during the coach ride this morning—or from duty. Well, Elizabeth thought with a touch of depressing sarcasm, if there was anything she had plenty of experience with, it was being with a gentleman who was only there because of duty.
She walked serenely up the stairs and down the corridor to the guest room she’d used on her previous visits. No one needed to show her where it was, and since Lady Ashworth was busy chatting with Aunt Margaret, neither woman noticed when Elizabeth separated from them and went into the room alone, shutting the door behind her.
She stood there at the door, her back against it, her hands over her face. And then she crossed the room to the small escritoire nestled in the corner and removed a sheet of writing paper from one of its drawers. She took up a quill and dipped it in the inkwell, then began to compose a letter to the Duke of Aylesham.
***
As Kit rode in his coach back to Cantwell Hall, he could not get over the look of desperation he’d seen in Elizabeth’s eyes or her earlier words as they echoed over and over in his mind:
“I do not like the fact that you have been distant, even estranged, from me the past few days. I have few enough friends; I thought you were one of them.”
“I am your friend, Lizzie; of that you can have no doubt,” he said.
“But I do doubt it, for you are a man of action, Kit, not of words, and your actions speak what you are apparently unwilling to say.”
He loved her; there was no denying it. Distancing himself from her had not changed his heart. But her heart belonged to Alex, and Alex deserved Kit’s loyalty.
Even so, the look in Elizabeth’s eyes as Anthony had escorted her into the house . . .
Kit shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. The road seemed bumpier between Ashworth Park and Cantwell Hall than it had the entire ride from London, for some reason. He made a mental note to have his groundskeeper inspect the road between the neighboring estates. As he intended to stay until after the christening—if the baby was born alive and healthy, God willing—there would be a good deal of traveling along this road for the next month or so.
He finally arrived at his own home, accompanied by a feeling of great relief. Everything appeared as it ought; the lawns were freshly mown, the summer flowers in bloom.
It reminded him of Elizabeth’s telling comment about planting cabbages and beans.
He walked around the manor house to the vegetable garden near the kitchen at the back. He’d only actually been here a few times, taking entirely for granted that his cook and gardener did what they were paid to do and saw to it all with efficiency. It was still early in the season, so it was unclear to him what some of the plants were, which was a terrible admission on his part. He intended to rectify that while he was here this summer.
He identified cabbage rows and thought he recognized the fringy green tops of what must be carrots. There were beanstalks growing. But there were other plants in the garden he did not know.
What if he’d had a year like the one Elizabeth had experienced?
He wandered next to the stable, where the groomsmen and stablehands were unhitching the horses from the coach. Upon spying Kit, Old Benjamin, the stablemaster, wandered toward him, wiping his hands on a rag.
“’Tis a surprise, it is, to see ye back so soon, me lord,” Old Ben said, squinting against the sun, despite his cap.
“Yes. Matters at Ashworth Park required we return sooner than expected,” Kit said.
Old Ben nodded while he tucked the rag into a pocket. “’Eard about that,” he said. “All our best wishes to the young countess.” His comment came as no surprise to Kit; the families at both manors had always had a close friendship, and the servants had maintained a close connection too.
“I will pass that along, Ben. I am going back over to Ashworth Park at four. Can you see that a mount is ready?”
“It’ll be ready, me lord. Make no mistake.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at the old man, a person he’d known his entire life. “Are you ready to be pensioned off yet, Ben, and finally give your old bones a rest?”
“Now, why would I wanna do that?” Old Ben said. “I’d be sittin’ round, doin’ nothin’. Can’t think of anythin’ worse. Besides, I makes the young coves do the ’ard jobs round ’ere.”
“Well done, my man,” Kit said, chuckling.
Kit walked back to the front of his house and went inside. The servants were already bustling about since word of his return would have spread the moment the coach had ridden up the private lane to Cantwell Hall, if not before. He discovered that his steward, Sanderson, was presently out visiting the tenants, which was just as well; he could speak to the fellow tomorrow. He asked to have a bath drawn for him. If he was going to go walking with Elizabeth, he was going to present himself in an appropriate manner. She deserved an outing with a friend who had taken pains to please her.
Kit then decided that while he was waiting for his bath to be drawn, he would compose a letter to Phillip, informing him of the situation with Amelia and the baby and urging him to return home at his earliest convenience. It would take some days for the letter to arrive in Lincoln and for Phillip to get his business affairs in order so he could travel to Oxfordshire. The sooner he knew about the situation, the better.
By the time Kit had completed his letter, his bath was ready. He quickly stripped out of his dirty clothes and stepped into his large copper bathtub. It felt good to sink into the water’s warmth and scrub the dust of the journey from his skin. Jack had lit a small fire in the fireplace nearby, and Kit’s towel hung on a rack next to it so it could warm. Kit slid deeper into the tub until his head was completely submerged, running his fingers through his hair to ensure it was completely wet before resurfacing. He washed his body and then soaped up his face and hair thoroughly, submerging again in the water to rinse the suds away. Then Jack dumped a bucket of fresh water over his tipped-back head to get any re
sidual soap out.
“I’m ready for that towel now, Jack,” Kit said. “And I think another shave is in order.”
Jack grabbed the towel from the rack and handed it to Kit after he stood. Kit quickly dried and donned his dressing gown before sitting for his shave.
“Is there a fancy do over at Ashworth Park this evening?” Jack asked.
“No, no ‘fancy do,’ as you call it, although I am returning there as soon as we’re finished here. I simply desired to look a bit more presentable when I arrived the second time.”
“Right.” It was spoken in the all-knowing tone of a man speaking to another man about a woman.
Kit turned in his seat to look directly at Jack. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
Jack raised both hands in mock innocence. Had he not been holding a razor at the time, he would have appeared more convincing. “Nothing at all, my lord.”
“I think not.”
Jack shrugged. “Well, it’s just that me and Sal—I mean Miss Sterling—well, there’s not much to do in a coach for hours at a time but talk, you know. And Sal’s a good girl, nice and pleasing to the eye, if you know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean, yes,” Kit said impatiently.
Jack set the razor down and draped a towel around Kit’s neck and then proceeded to lather up Kit’s cheeks and chin.
“Sal said—and this is Sal’s thinking, not mine or Mrs. Tompkins’s, you know—Lady Walmsley’s maid—her not being one to gossip, as she said.” He picked up the razor and began to scrape away the beard growth that had occurred since morning. “At any rate, Sal said that she’d never seen Lady Elizabeth look more alive than when she’d spent time with you. Of course, most of the time Sal saw Lady Elizabeth was when she was living all alone with only her mama for company, so it could stand to reason that spending time with anyone else would make her feel more alive. But—”
“Careful around my ear there, man,” Kit said. Jack was getting fairly involved in his explanation, and Kit was definitely interested in what the servant gossip was regarding Lady Elizabeth’s opinion of him, but not if it meant losing an ear.