The Regency Season

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘Absolutely.’ Freddy deposited his hat on a side table and helped Minette to sit, before sprawling beside her on the sofa. ‘Tell us all the news. It is an age since I was here. How fares everyone?’

  Having rung the bell for tea, Mrs Farmer sat down and began to talk about what seemed like an endless list of people. The tea tray arrived. The tea was drunk and still the gossip continued. Minette did her best to look interested when she was dying for Freddy to ask the all-important question.

  ‘Mrs Pearson’s husband died last year, you know,’ the woman said, leaning forward with a sad expression. ‘She moved to Yorkshire to live with her daughter.’

  ‘Did she sell the house?’ Freddy asked.

  Mrs Farmer shook her head. ‘Leasing. She was at her wits’ end, with no one local interested. She had to leave a solicitor to handle the matter.’

  ‘Really?’ Freddy said.

  ‘It will be a blessing if she can find a tenant. If not she’ll have to let it go and her Sammy always swore it would go to his grandson. It would be a real blow if she can’t honour his wishes.’

  ‘Have her to send word to me,’ Freddy said. ‘I could likely make use of the land, if not the house.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mrs Farmer looked surprised.

  ‘What is it?’ Freddy asked.

  She shook her head.

  ‘You asked Mother,’ Freddy said in a flat tone.

  Her face coloured. ‘I mentioned it, but she said that while she could see you purchasing the land, Mrs Pearson’s pure foolishness in wanting to keep it was not to be encouraged.’

  Freddy got to his feet. ‘As I said, if she doesn’t find a tenant have her write to me.’ He turned to Minette. ‘It is time we were going if I am to show you more of the estate, my dear.’

  They made their farewells, and Minette promised she would call with Freddy later in the week and discuss arrangements for the wedding with the Reverend.

  * * *

  ‘You didn’t ask her about strangers.’

  She sounded worried, as if she feared he could not protect her from this Moreau. A stinging blow to his ego indeed. Or perhaps it was simply part of the game she was playing with him. A way to lull him into a false sense of security. ‘Asking would only make her curious. She would have told me if anyone new had moved in or been asking questions.’

  The furrow in her brow said she was not entirely satisfied. ‘So what do we do now? Seek him in Maidstone?’

  ‘Hardly. Not with the ball in the offing.’

  ‘You would let Moreau go free for the sake of a stupid ball?’

  He decided to be honest. Up to a point. ‘It is not stupid. The coincidence of the ball and Moreau travelling to this district at the same time is too much to discount.’

  ‘You think to let him come to you. It is a very dangerous ploy.’

  So intelligent. Whatever she had been doing in France she had not been sitting in a nunnery, saying prayers. Her appearance at the Ramsgate and her responses to his far-from-respectable kisses meant she had been involved in something far less innocent, something dangerous. And Moreau was at the heart of it. And was she warning him? Or pushing him one way so he would go in the direction she preferred?

  The way he did with Mother.

  He would have to tread very carefully if he was going to find out exactly where she stood in regard to this Frenchman. He’d hoped to gain her trust, but since he hadn’t he would have to treat her as an enemy, until proved otherwise. ‘Do you have a better idea?’

  ‘How can you stop him, if someone at the ball is his ultimate goal?’

  ‘We will watch. I would like to take a look at this farm that is up for lease. If I recall it correctly, it is quite isolated.’

  ‘Oh.’ She nodded and brightened considerably. ‘Yes. It is the sort of thing that would be very useful. A place to hide. Do we go there now?’

  ‘That is where we are headed.’

  ‘You don’t think we will scare him off?’

  ‘If a tenant had taken up residence, Mrs Farmer would have told us. There isn’t an ant that moves in this parish without her knowing.’

  To his surprise, Minette blushed. The realisation why hit him a second later. ‘The servants at the manor are completely trustworthy. Mother wouldn’t allow anything else. One word of gossip about the doings of Falconwood and they would be tossed out onto the street.’

  ‘Your mother is a formidable woman.’

  ‘True.’ He grinned. Couldn’t help it. ‘Not looking forward to your interview later?’

  ‘I think it is going to be difficult. The head gardener was astonished that I was meeting with him and kept saying he would have to check with the “missus”.’

  Anger scored his insides, which were already raw enough. ‘I’ll have a word with him.’

  ‘I really don’t think we should be upsetting your mother to no purpose.’

  He repressed the urge to tell her that he didn’t care what she thought was going to happen after they caught Moreau, they would be wed. One battle at a time. It was wisdom he’d learned early. And this particular battle wasn’t going to be easily won.

  Beyond the village he turned off the main road and up one of the lanes that wound its way from farm to farm. The Pearson place was one of the most remote. They rode side by side at an easy walk, each apparently busy with their own thoughts. A rabbit darted out in front of them. Her mare startled and tossed its head but she quickly brought it under control. Whereas with another woman he might have moved closer ready to grab the reins, he merely gave her room to manoeuvre. She gave him a small smile of triumph as the horse quickly settled.

  He’d already seen that she had an excellent seat and managed the spirited mare with ease. It pleased him to watch her lithe body sink into her saddle, her competent hands guiding the mare. He pictured them riding around the estate together, visiting tenants, discussing plans. He stilled. He was thinking like the Duke of Falconwood. Not like the second son. It was a bit of a shock to realise he was coming to accept his role in life. Because she would be part of it.

  This would be his last job for Sceptre.

  It would have to be. A man with a wife, with the kind of responsibilities that went with the dukedom, could not continue to play ducks and drakes with the estate’s future by letting Mother have a free hand as he had been doing these past several years. It needed a different hand on the reins, according to his steward. Mother had too many old-fashioned notions. He’d seen the evidence of that on their ride this morning. The idea of serving the place where he grew up no longer felt like a penance. Not if he had the help of a woman he cared about. Liked. Lusted after. None of those words seemed to cover exactly what he felt for Minette, although he certainly felt all of them. And he still wasn’t sure she’d have him, not in the way he wanted, on terms he would have to make clear before the wedding, if he was going to be fair.

  The hedgerows were full of dog roses and the air redolent with their scent. The likelihood of meeting traffic on such a remote lane was slight, but it would be better to be sure. At the first gate they came upon, he called a halt. ‘We’ll cut across country.’ He lifted the latch with his crop and ushered her through.

  The mare rolled her eyes but trotted through as nice as you please. Minette held her at a stand while he closed the gate behind them.

  ‘Which way?’ she asked.

  ‘Straight across.’

  She eyed the distance with a look of mischief. ‘I wager I can be over the wall before you. I dare you.’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  The mare needed little encouragement. ‘En avant, Freddy,’ she cried over her shoulder over the thud of hoofbeats.

  Freddy urged his horse to follow. Damnation, she was a fine horsewoman. There was no doubt he would win but... His heart rose in his throat as he recalled the nasty drop on the other side of the wall.

  ‘Minette. Stop,’ he yelled, encouraging his gelding to greater effort when she didn’t appear to hear him.

  Hi
s heart pounded in his chest. His vision narrowed to one horse, one rider and the looming wall. The image of a twisted, broken body careened through his mind. Not his brother’s this time but hers. And then they were neck and neck. He threw himself off his mount and grabbed at her horse’s headstall, using his weight to bring the animal to a bone-wrenching halt. The mare stood, chest heaving, three short yards from the low stone wall, while his own mount swerved, slowed and started cropping at the grass a short distance away.

  Fury in her eyes, she raised her crop. ‘Idiot. Qu’est-ce tu fais?’

  He grabbed the whip from her hand and threw it down. ‘You are the idiot. Do you know what is on the other side of that wall? No. Of course you don’t. You’d sooner get yourself killed than lose a race.’ Nausea rolled through his gut as he heard his voice speak the words that had resided so long deep in his soul. He took a step back. Pain shot up his leg. Damn it. He’d twisted his ankle. Furious, he let go of the bridle and hobbled across the grass to collect his mount.

  When he had himself mounted and his horse turned around she was at the wall, looking over. She glanced over at him with an expression of chagrin.

  ‘Mon Dieu. One would never guess the ditch was there.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘I beg your pardon.’

  His heart refused to settle. His blood was surging hot in his veins. His throat was still dry. ‘Even a schoolboy knows better than to go at a hedge he has never seen before.’

  A red flush spread upwards over her face. ‘Perhaps an English schoolboy,’ she shot back. ‘In France our boys have more courage.’

  A red haze blurred his vision. The picture of her broken and bleeding on the ground slithered across his mind. ‘Courage? Crass stupidity, more like. Perhaps you need to be led.’

  She glared at him. ‘Try it, if you are in the mood to lose a hand.’

  Dammit, she’d apologised. What that hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t let it go when she’d come to no harm? But he couldn’t. The past remained too close to the surface. An unhealed wound. ‘The gate is over there.’ He pointed with his whip.

  They once more moved off in silence, but it was no longer friendly and comfortable.

  ‘You were limping. Are you injured?’ she asked stiffly.

  ‘No.’

  Her lovely mouth twisted. ‘Perhaps I should look to make sure.’

  His blood turned to ice. Just the thought of her seeing... ‘I did no more than wrench my ankle.’ An ankle that did not like rough treatment at the best of times.

  She looked away but not before he caught the tremble of her lower lip. A sniff. Was she crying?

  ‘Minette?’ Something inside him twisted painfully.

  She turned back to face him, her eyes suspiciously moist. ‘Why does it seem that you bring out only the worst in me?’

  It was like a blow to his gut, those words. His mother had always said he brought out the worst in his brother, too. He closed himself off from the stab of pain. ‘I beg your pardon if my presence troubles you. I shall be more than happy to return you to Falconwood.’

  She stared at him. ‘You will not be rid of me so easily, Your Grace.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Are we near the farm we seek?’

  Damn it all, she was back to Your Gracing him. ‘Beyond the next field.’

  ‘Are their further dangers I should be aware of?’

  A curse caught in his throat. Pain pierced his chest. She was making it sound as if her near accident had been his fault. His gut fell away. She was right. It would have been. He should have warned her about the lie of the land. Had he been with another male, he would have done so the moment they entered the field. ‘Nothing I am aware of.’ He sounded as stiff and cold as she did, when he should be feeling glad no mishap had occurred. After a small pause, as if she expected him to say more, she turned her horse and set off at a brisk trot.

  It seemed their brief hours of truce were over.

  Chapter Twelve

  Why could he not have simply accepted her apology instead of scowling and looking grim?

  Did he think she did not care that she could have badly injured his horse?

  The blood in her veins seethed with her anger at his injustice, as well as her embarrassment at her temper.

  When they reached the gate she waited in frigid silence while he let them both through and closed it behind them.

  He came up alongside her. ‘I apologise for my rudeness. I feared for your safety.’

  While his face remained grim, his tone was sincere. The hurt inside her subsided. ‘Apology accepted. I had no wish to cause you concern, but I can assure you I have survived more than one tumble.’

  The muscle in his jaw flexed. ‘Not every fall is survivable.’

  It was then that she remembered his brother. The reason for his unreasonable fury was suddenly clear. Not that she was about to let him wrap her in cotton wool but she should not have been quite so angry.

  ‘I beg your pardon for striking out at you.’

  His lips twitched at the corners. ‘Likely I would have done the same if someone took control of my horse.’

  She smiled at him. ‘It seems we are both endlessly sorry. Shall we put it out of our minds?’

  He nodded. ‘The Pearson farmhouse is over that hill. We will enter the lane up ahead and come at it from the road.’

  ‘In case anyone is lurking about.’

  A small smile curved his lips. ‘Exactly.’

  The distance to the farmhouse took no more than a few minutes to cover. It was a thatched house washed white and gleaming in the sun. Several outbuildings ranged behind the house. No animals. No sign of inhabitation.

  And yet...the place did not feel deserted. ‘Someone is here.’

  A surprised glance shot her way. ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

  ‘D’accord. What do we do? Pretend to notice nothing amiss and knock on the door?’

  ‘I’m not out to invite trouble.’ He raised his arm and pointed to the buildings and the house as if telling her something about them. ‘I wish we could get closer.’

  ‘Moreau would know me in an instant.’

  ‘And you could tell me if he actually had chosen this place in which to hide.’

  ‘Damned if we do—’

  ‘And if we don’t,’ he finished. At that moment the door to the house opened and a grey-haired man stepped out.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Not Moreau,’ Minette confirmed over the pounding of her heart. It was already slowing now that she knew he was not the man they sought.’

  ‘Will you please leave the talking to me?’ Freddy asked as they started closer.

  How could she say no when he asked so nicely? ‘As you wish.’

  He cocked a brow, but there was definitely a hint of a smile curving his lovely mouth. Perhaps she was truly forgiven.

  The man strode into the courtyard and they brought their horses to a halt beside him.

  ‘Good day,’ Freddy said. ‘Falconwood.’

  He didn’t introduce Minette. The man looked like some sort of well-to-do tradesman.

  ‘Pocock,’ he said.

  ‘Ah,’ Freddy replied. ‘The solicitor.’ He looked about him. ‘I didn’t realise you were here, since there is no visible transport. I heard the place was available for lease.’

  ‘Yes,’ Pocock said, squinting against the sun as he looked up. ‘My man went off to the village in the gig to arrange for a cleaning woman to go in once a week, to make sure the place is clean and to check on the place.’

  ‘No tenant in the offing?’ Freddy said.

  Pocock shook his head.

  Minette wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or sorry. The thought of Moreau taking residence so close to where she was living was nerve-racking, but it would have meant they knew where he was.

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t take up the lease, Your Grace, it butting up on your land,’ Pocock said. ‘The house is barely habitable, but it might do for a labourer.�
��

  Freddy looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll do it. Send the papers to my steward.’

  Pocock’s jaw dropped. ‘I was told Falconwood didn’t need more land.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ He touched his crop to his hat. ‘Send the papers along to my steward at your earliest convenience.’ He turned back. ‘Oh, and if anyone else enquires about leasing the property, anyone at all, would you let me know?’

  ‘Certainly, Your Grace.’

  Freddy said nothing until they were well out of earshot. ‘Old Pearson would have been pleased.’

  ‘It is kind of you,’ she said. ‘But do you really need more land?’

  ‘Need, no. But having a legitimate interest in the place will make it easier to make sure no one moves in that I haven’t vetted personally.’ He pointed to a nearby copse. ‘From just beyond those trees there is a good view of Falconwood’s park. I will have Barker set up a command post there so we are not taken by surprise.’

  He was actually telling her his plan. She couldn’t help it, she smiled at him and, while he didn’t blink the way Granby did, his eyes widened a fraction, a response that warmed her in ways it should not. ‘Unfortunately it brings us no closer to finding where Moreau is at this moment.’

  His expression darkened. ‘No. It seems we are going to have to let him come to us. But with my men here we should have advance notice of any strangers in the vicinity.’

  ‘And there’s always Mrs Farmer.’

  A smile appeared on his face and he looked like the mischievous boy Mrs Farmer had spoken of. It was enchanting. It touched a place inside her that was far too vulnerable for her liking. But it did seem as if they were on friendly terms again and for that she could only be glad.

  And that feeling of gladness was a worry.

  Because, in the end, she was going to disappoint him terribly.

  * * *

  While Minette discussed flower arrangements with his mother, Freddy closeted himself in his steward’s office. The man seemed overly grateful and a little fearful. It didn’t take Freddy long to understand why. His mother had been assiduous in her duties. Running the estate the way his father had. Everything done logically but without an iota of humanity. An unpaid lease resulted in an immediate eviction. An innovation resulted in a reduction of farm labourers. The pattern that emerged was troubling. All of those gone from his land were people he’d thought of as friends. People who’d believed him when he’d said the death of his brother had been a terrible accident.