‘Very good, my lord,’ the butler said, before departing to bring refreshments.
The “my lord” startled Marianne, and she looked at the man opposite her with mingled feelings of surprise and dismay. So he was Lord Ravensford. Which in some ways made her feel better – she had not been insulted by a common secretary, at least - but in some ways made her feel far worse. She flushed. Lord Ravensford had mistaken her for a lightskirt. She flushed more deeply. If only she could have held him entirely responsible it would not have been so bad. But her honesty forced her to acknowledge that she had hardly arrived in the manner he might have expected of Miss Travis of Seaton Hall.
‘Yes.’ He seemed to read some of the subtle play of emotions crossing her face. ‘I am Ravensford – even though my behaviour may have led you to believe otherwise.’
Marianne sighed. ‘I suppose I should load you down with further reproaches, but what’s done is done. Besides, I have a matter of much more importance to discuss.’
Figgs returned with the Canary wine, and after pouring Marianne a glass Lord Ravensford took a brandy for himself and then said, ‘I’m listening.’
He didn’t know how it was, but there was something about her that made him want to listen to her; and it went without saying, he thought, as he looked at her intriguing face and figure, that he wanted to look at her. A pity she was not a lightskirt. He allowed himself to forget for a moment that she was gently raised and contemplate the pleasures they could have shared.
‘I will come straight to the point.’ Marianne was fortunately unaware of his thoughts, and had decided that in such a serious matter a direct approach was best. ‘When my groom and I were out riding yesterday, we discovered a mantrap.’
He sat up, resting his hands on his knees as he leant forwards. ‘A mantrap?’ His whole demeanour had changed, becoming sharp and fully attentive. ‘That’s a terrible thing,’ he said with a frown. He sat back a little. ‘But I don’t see what it has to do with me.’
‘The mantrap was on your land.’
‘On my land, you say?’ he asked her in surprise.
‘Yes. Or rather, on Billingsdale land. I know the villagers should not be poaching, but when the winter is hard they often have no choice if they want to stay alive. Usually the landowners hereabouts turn a blind eye to poaching at this time of year, particularly when there is snow on the ground, but Mr Billingsdale's manager is determined there will be no poaching on Billingsdale land. The traps are cruel, and can break a man's leg - surely too high a price to pay for stealing a rabbit in order to stay alive; especially as most of the men have families to feed. I have written to Mr Billingsdale about it but he will not interest himself in the matter. He has every faith in his manager, he says. And so I have come to see you. You are the new tenant, after all. It is in your power to do something about it.’
Lord Ravensford’s eyes narrowed, and he put his hands together, steepling his long, strong fingers. ‘You are sure about this? Under the snow it’s difficult to see anything clearly. Could you not be mistaken?’
Marianne shook her head. ‘We – my groom and I - discovered a man caught in one only yesterday.’
‘Yesterday, you say?’ His tone was penetrating, and an intent look had come into his eye. ‘Who was it? One of the local men?’
‘No. My groom and I freed him, but neither of us recognised him. He is definitely not from these parts.’
‘He will need medical attention,’ said Lord Ravensford, getting up and going towards the bell.
‘He has already had it. I called the doctor as soon as I got him back to the house.’
‘Am I to understand – you have taken this man in?’ His gaze was very direct, and she noticed again how unusual his eyes were, of a brown so bright as to be almost gold.
‘Yes.’
‘And he is not known in these parts, you say?’
‘No. But as I told Trudie, we are in no danger from him,’ she said, misunderstanding his interest. ‘His leg has been badly damaged and although he can hobble around it will be some time before he can walk easily again.’
‘That was good of you,’ he said slowly. ‘To take him in. Particularly if he is a stranger in these parts.’ Then, as if recollecting himself, he added, ‘but not very wise.’
‘I couldn’t leave him out in the snow,’ replied Marianne simply. ‘He was badly hurt, and in too much pain to tell us who he was or where he came from, otherwise I would have arranged for him to have been taken home, so in the end I thought it best to take him back to the Hall. But I am concerned. There are other traps, you see. Tom has seen them.’ She raised her eyes to him appealingly. ‘I don’t want those traps on my – on neighbouring land,’ she said. ‘Will you remove them for me?’
He gave her a mocking smile, his eyes roving over her gentian blue eyes and her delightfully rosy lips. ‘When you look at me like that, I can deny you nothing,’ he said with a quirk of his mouth.
‘Are you never serious, Lord Ravensford?’ she asked in exasperation; but a smile tugged at the corner of her own mouth nonetheless.
‘Not often.’ He paused. ‘But I promise you I will be serious over this, Miss . . .?'
‘Travis.’
His face froze. There was a moment of unnatural silence. And then he said. ‘Miss Travis.’ His smile this time was not mocking. In fact, it seemed forced.
‘Well, my lord?’ asked Marianne, too concerned about the traps to notice his strange expression and response. ‘Will you order their removal?’
He let out his breath. ‘Mantraps are an abomination. Yes, I will. I will give orders that they are to be cleared immediately. You are right, the winter is hard. A little poaching is to be expected.’
Marianne breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. I knew I could make you see reason. I am only sorry to have troubled you before you have even unpacked.’
‘It was no trouble.’
She looked at his suspiciously, but for once there seemed to be no hidden meaning in his words. ‘Well, now that is settled I will not keep you. I must be getting back to Seaton Hall.’
She stood up.
‘I will see you again before long, I hope?’ he asked as he, too stood up; all six feet and more of him.
She hesitated. ‘Perhaps,’ she replied.
‘With that it seems I must be content.’ He made a low bow then rang for Figgs, and she was escorted from the room.
‘So that’s Kit’s sister.’ Figgs’s voice was speculative as he returned to the drawing-room, having shown Marianne out.
‘It is.’ Lord Ravensford, standing by the window, was watching Marianne as she drove away in her rustic cart. She made a lovely figure, sitting erect as she skilfully handled the reins, her cloak reflecting the blue-grey of the sky and her black ringlets cascading down her back.
'And you weren't tempted to tell her?' asked Figgs.
'What? That I am a friend of her brother's, and that I am here to give Kit any help he needs in rescuing his beloved Adèle from the revolution in France? That her brother did not need money to pay gambling debts as she supposes, but that he needed it to mount the rescue attempt, and that even now he is on the other side of the Channel, facing God knows what perils in order to bring Adèle safely back to England?' he asked with a wry smile.
'Any of that. Or all of it,' Figgs said. He had lost the deferential look of a servant and was now talking to Lord Ravensford with the air of a comrade in arms.
Lord Ravensford's eyes lingered on Marianne until she was out of sight. ‘No,' he said, reluctantly turning away from the window and giving his full attention to Figgs. 'I gave Kit my word that I would not tell her anything. He does not want her to worry, and she would be sure to do so if she knew where he was. Even so, I wish I'd known who she was from the outset. I should have guessed, I suppose, but I hadn’t imagined her to be anything like that. Somehow I had the impression that Kit’s sister was a large-boned, mannish woman —’
‘Because Kit told you she’d be able h
elp her father with the estate whilst he was away,’ Figgs suggested.
‘Probably so,’ Lord Ravensford agreed. ‘I certainly never imagined such an intriguing beauty, with such a delightful figure or such gentian-blue eyes. But that’s no excuse. I should have guessed who she was, or at least guessed who she might be. Particularly once she revealed we were neighbours. Then, if not before, I should have had the idea at the forefront of my mind. It isn't like me to get so carried away.’
‘What’s done is done,’ said Figgs practically.
Lord Ravensford frowned, settling himself in a Sheraton chair.
Figgs sat down opposite him.
‘Perhaps,' Lord Ravensford said. 'But it’s unfortunate all the same. I’d planned things quite differently. I was going to be charming and respectable at our first meeting. I have promised Kit I'll keep an eye on his little sister whilst he is away,' he said. 'And since I've arrived I've been even more determined to help her. I know Kit said she would be able to help her father with the running the estate whilst he was in France, but according to the local gossip Mr Travis has turned into something of a recluse since Kit’s departure. He has taken it hard and has retreated to his room, where he nurses his grievances. He rarely comes out, and Marianne has been left to run the estate by herself. I wanted her to feel she had a friend in me; someone she could turn to if she needed any help, so that if the burden of running things at Seaton Hall became too great she wouldn’t have to feel she was alone. ’
Figgs nodded. ‘As we have to be here anyway, to be a back up for Kit, so to speak, it makes sense for you to keep an eye on Marianne. We don’t want Kit returning home to find her on the brink of exhaustion from looking after the estate - he has enough troubles.’ He looked around the room thoughtfully. ‘It’s lucky we were able to rent this place. It’s ideal: right next door to Kit's home, and with its own coves and beaches so that if we're needed we can put a small boat out to sea without attracting too much attention. And, once Kit's rescued Adèle, we can help him to land.’
Luke nodded. ‘Yes. It was fortunate Mr Billingsdale was looking for a tenant. This place makes an excellent base. But that doesn’t solve the problem of Marianne. As things stand, she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t even trust me - though I can't say I blame her,' he said, angry with himself at having so misjudged the situation. 'Even so, if she neither likes nor trusts me she won’t turn to me for help if she needs it.’
‘Oh, well, it could have been worse,’ said Figgs with a shrug. ‘At least you didn’t tell her to call you Luke.’
Luke gave a wolfish smile, which widened into sardonic laughter. ‘That would have put the cat among the pigeons, would it not?’ He sobered suddenly. ‘It goes without saying that she must never learn who I am. If she discovers that the Earl of Ravensford and Luke Somerville are one and the same person, she’ll refuse to trust me altogether. With all the rumours that are flying round she will blame me for leading Kit into temptation and will fight me at every turn. Marianne is no milk and water miss. She would not forgive me if she thought I had injured her brother.’
'You could always tell her you didn't lead Kit into temptation,' Figgs said practically.
'And you think she would believe me?' asked Luke with a lift of one eyebrow. 'No. Of course not. Not unless I could prove it. Which I can't - at least, not unless I tell her the truth, which would mean telling her that Kit has gone to France. And that is something I have promised not to do.'
‘It’s just a pity Kit couldn’t tell his family what he's really up to,’ said Figgs.
‘He didn't want to worry them. Besides, his father wouldn’t have given him the money to fund the expedition if he had known what it was for. On the contrary, Mr Travis would have done everything in his power to stand in Kit’s way. Which is why Kit had to make up the story about needing the money to cover gambling debts.’
‘The old man would have objected, then? Doesn’t he approve of Adèle?’ asked Figgs curiously.
‘Oh, he likes her well enough. In fact, as Adèle is his god-daughter, he likes her very well. But Kit is his heir, and his only son. He wouldn’t want him to take any risks.'
'Kit is happy to take them,' shrugged Figgs.
Luke nodded. As he did so he was conscious of a twist inside. It wasn’t that he was envious of Kit, but it was something close. Because he realised that Kit, who, at twenty-five, was three years his junior, had found something in life that he himself had been denied. Kit had found a woman he would willingly risk his life for, whereas he himself had found nothing but idle distractions: barques of frailty and bits of muslin with whom he had had a string of unsatisfactory affairs.
It's no wonder Kit's determined to marry Adèle, he thought. If I found a woman I'd risk my life for, I'd marry, too. But it's hardly likely.
‘I don’t like deceiving Marianne – or Miss Travis, as I must try and remember to call her, at least to her face; although it will be hard, when I am so used to hearing Kit talking about her as Marianne.’ He rose and went over to the mantelpiece. Then, standing with his back to it, he turned his eyes towards the window, through which he had seen Marianne leave the house. ‘I never liked the idea of deceiving Kit’s sister, and now that I’ve met her I like it even less. However, to spare her the worry and anxiety she will feel if she knows that Kit is risking his life in a rescue attempt, it’s something I have to do.’
Figgs nodded slowly.
‘There is one thing, though,’ said Luke thoughtfully. ‘Marianne told me she has taken in a man whose leg has been caught in a trap: a stranger, not someone from around these parts. Fortunately, he wasn’t too badly hurt. But the thought crossed my mind that he could be Henri.’
‘Ah. That would be useful,’ said Figgs. ‘If it is him, he may be able to win her trust even if you can’t. And it would explain why he didn’t join us last night as arranged. But how will you discover if it is Henri?’
Luke turned his eyes back to his friend. ‘Because I intend to go over to Seaton Hall and find out. In the meantime, we need to get things moving here. Has the luggage arrived?'
'Yes. It came yesterday.'
'And the servants?'
'They should be here this afternoon.'
'Good. The house needs putting in order. We might as well be comfortable. After all, we will be here for some time.'
Chapter Two
As Marianne made her way home she was glad she had drunk a glass of Canary wine. The day had turned colder, and now that her stone hot water bottles had lost their heat the wine’s warmth was the only thing that made the journey comfortable.
As she traversed the country lanes she could not help thinking over her meeting with Lord Ravensford. Although in the end it had gone well it had nearly proved disastrous - because she had ignored Trudie’s advice and gone out without a chaperon.
Without a chaperon, and in a horse and cart.
Her thoughts went to the Travis carriage, which was tucked away in a corner of the stables. Her family no longer boasted the number of servants needed to polish its brasses and buff its squabs, as their fortunes had been adversely affected by the turbulence in France. But even so, despite its dilapidation, Marianne would have taken it if Tom had been available to drive it. Her second choice would have been to go on horseback, but with Dapple ill that, too, had been impossible.
For the first time Marianne realised how she must look, not to her neighbours, who knew that her means were straitened and who were used to her ways, but to a stranger. It was one thing for her to tool about the countryside in a rustic cart with no chaperon at her side when the only people she was likely to meet were the Cosgroves or the Reverend Mr Stock, but when there was a new person in the neighbourhood it had been unwise.
She turned Hercules in at the gate of Seaton Hall, glad that her journey was nearly over. There would be a big fire waiting for her in the kitchen - the other rooms were seldom used unless there was company, it being more economical that way – and Trudie would be on hand to hear al
l about her success.
Of her ill treatment at Lord Ravensford’s hands she decided to say nothing. It would only lead to a scolding and an “I told you so”, in addition to making Trudie impossible if Lord Ravensford should ever visit Seaton Hall.
Marianne drove the cart round to the stables. Leaving it in Jack’s willing hands she went to see how Dapple was doing. She was relieved to discover the mare was much better, and that Tom expected a speedy recovery. Then, having satisfied herself that her mare was making good progress, she went into the Hall.
The first thing she noticed on entering the hall was a delicious smell, and then she heard the sound of a heated argument coming from the back of the house. Curiously, she made her way towards the kitchen. As she opened the kitchen door a strange sight met her eyes. There, brandishing her rolling pin, was Trudie, glaring at the man who, only the day before, had been caught in the jaws of the mantrap. And both of them had fire in their eyes.
The Earl Next Door Page 3