Foxing the Geese

by Janet Woods

  Then again, if she ended up married to the earl she’d be buried in Dorset and her tablet would read, Vivienne, Countess LéSayres. Dearly beloved wife of Alexander, and loving mother to . . . She thought for a moment, then whispered, ‘to Alexander . . . Ambrose … and Rafe.’ She mixed in a couple of daughters. They would be named Eugenie after Alex’s stepmother, because it would please him, and the second would be called Jeanne in memory of her own mother.

  ‘Gracious! I’m not married yet and already I’m dead and buried.’

  Her father looked puzzled. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Vivienne? You seem to talk to yourself quite often these days. Perhaps that blow on the head did more damage than we thought.’

  ‘Sorry, Papa … I was thinking out loud.’

  ‘If I may ask … who are those people you mentioned?’

  ‘Your grandchildren.’

  ‘Ah … yes. Did I hear you mention a husband in this flight of fancy?’

  ‘You might have to trust to your own flight of fancy for that.’

  ‘The earl is such a determined gentleman, isn’t he?’

  She scowled at him. ‘And such a nuisance.’

  Her father chuckled. ‘The earl is your guest, Vivienne, and you shouldn’t refer to him in derogatory terms.’

  ‘No, Papa … the earl is your guest,’ she reminded him.

  When the drawing room door closed behind him she felt guilty, and murmured on a defeated note, as she continued up the stairs, ‘Men! It’s a pity they’re so indispensable.’

  Sixteen

  Vivienne rose when Maria brought her some warm water to wash in. The maid braided her hair in a simple country style with some ringlets on her forehead.

  ‘Has the earl been offered water to wash in?’ she asked.

  ‘I gave him some soap and towels last night, and he washed himself early this morning under the garden pump, hair and all. It was quite a sight.’

  Vivienne felt a quiver of shock. ‘What do you mean by all?’

  ‘He kept his trousers and boots on. He had a lovely chest, nicely muscled and proportioned, and without an inch of fat on him.’

  Vivienne was sorry she’d missed the sight, but thought she should caution Maria, since she seemed to have picked up some bad habits from her former mistress, and besides, it wasn’t Maria’s place to make comments, good or bad, about their guests. ‘We must allow the earl privacy at such times.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Fox. The earl was already in the middle of his ablutions when I came down. You can tell he’s a countryman since he rises with the dawn.’

  There was no sign of her father at breakfast – an indication that she might have upset him the day before, because he sometimes became introspective and avoided her after they’d argued.

  Alex offered her a smile when she went into the dining room. His face was dark with a day’s growth of beard, and his hair sprang damply against his face.

  Her heart wrenched at the sight of him.

  ‘I think the swelling on your mouth is less noticeable this morning. Are you feeling any better?’ he said.

  She didn’t want to encourage his sympathy so nodded. ‘Have you seen my father this morning?’

  ‘He said he’d promised to take a lady friend to the market place and has already left.’

  ‘Jane Bessant, I imagine. I think they’ll marry eventually.’ When his last unmarried daughter was safely off his hands. For the first time in her life Vivienne felt like an intruder in her own home. She shook the feeling off.

  ‘He said to tell you he’ll bring Mrs Bessant home about eleven since she will want to see you.’

  ‘I expect he thinks I need some female counsel.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘Sometimes I think it would be nice to have an older woman to talk to, but Jane is too young for the purpose, and it would be unfair of him to place her in the position of in loco parentis, since it could cause dissent. As it is, Jane and I get on well together, and besides, counsel of any kind is tedious when you’re my age. My father tends to treat me as a child still. Sometimes I wish I were a man, then I need only follow my own wisdoms and dictates.’

  ‘It’s not that easy. Men have responsibilities too.’

  They seated themselves at the table in front of windows that framed a garden of quilted summer flowers. The cat had taken possession of a beam of sunshine piercing a windowpane. Spread out on the sill he resembled the furry trim from a winter shawl, casually tossed there at the end of winter – if one didn’t notice the yellow slit of an eye left on watch.

  The moment was so timeless it quivered like a heat mirage of water on a hot day, reflected to tease the tongue of the thirsty. Everything slowed down so she was left behind while the world moved on.

  She drew in a deep breath and caught up with it.

  ‘Are you all right, Vivienne?’

  Everything was all right when she was with him, even when everything was wrong. She would tell him she loved him as soon as the opportunity presented itself. She wanted to be his wife, because convention would find a way to keep them apart otherwise.

  All she need do was agree to his proposal. He already had it in his head that he could sell off some of his estate, and it would be easy to continue to keep him in ignorance for the time being. She would tell him the truth after they were married. That was soon enough, because he’d have to take part in those tedious meetings that men had about wealth, what to do with it and how to invest it.

  All she would need for herself was an allowance, and she wouldn’t need anyone to tell her how to spend it!

  The housekeeper came in and served them some eggs, bacon and tomatoes, and bread fried in the juices. They ate without conversing, the atmosphere filled with unspoken words that buzzed in the air like invisible wasps.

  Maria brought the tea in and hovered, trying to be unnoticeable.

  ‘You needn’t stay, Maria. I don’t need a chaperone in my own home and I’m certain the earl wouldn’t have the bad manners to attack me over breakfast. Tell the housekeeper I’ll clear the dishes away afterwards.’

  After the door shut behind the maid, Vivienne asked, ‘What time are you leaving?’

  ‘After breakfast … did you want to get rid of me sooner?’

  The opposite was true, a reluctance in her heart to see him go. A new feeling towards him had grown in her overnight and had emerged this morning when she saw him again. It was one of possession – or was it one of being possessed? But she wasn’t possessed … not yet.

  ‘Not in particular, Alex. I thought it might be a good time to set things straight between us, but can we please not argue over breakfast.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That was rude of me.’

  ‘Would you do something for me, Alex?’

  ‘Anything at all.’

  ‘I left London owing a seamstress for a gown, and my aunt would have had to pay for it, would you deliver the money to her?’ She handed over the purse and he slipped it into the deep pocket in his waistcoat. ‘And could you tell her I’ve decided to return to London once my injuries are healed. Then there are my trunks. I left a note asking Matthew to send them on. Would you check with him on my behalf? I can leave them there now I’ve decided to return.’

  ‘Why have you decided to return to London?’

  ‘I don’t feel the need to skulk here. I’ve done nothing wrong. I want to make sure that Simon Mortimer knows he’s not getting away with what he did.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on Mrs Goodman offering you shelter. I believe the lease is almost up. The atmosphere was frosty as it was, and most of the angst was directed towards you. Anything I said at the time would only have exacerbated the situation. I will try and set your aunt straight about what occurred, though she may choose not to believe it, since she has the future of her daughter to think of. It would be better if you waited until the situation settles before you return. I need to discover what tale Simon Mortimer and Freddie Lamington have cooked up between them in my absence.’<
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  ‘You’re not intending to take Simon Mortimer to account, are you?’

  He touched a bruise on her face. ‘For that bruise alone I could strangle him with my bare hands. You need someone to take up your cause else you’ll be hiding for the rest of your life. Like it or not, the role of hero seems to have fallen my way.’

  Contrition filled her. ‘I’m sorry … it was unintentional.’

  ‘I’d rather you left the matter in my hands. You may not have invited trouble but it found you nevertheless. Events are being chewed over like dogs with a bone. Mortimer created this situation for his own ends, and if he doesn’t recant it I’ll tie him to a horse and drag him through the dung of the London streets until he does.’

  She wouldn’t be able to stop him, so she took his hand in hers and laid her face against it. ‘I will wait to hear from you, of course. Be careful, Alex.’ When she reminded herself the gesture was not seemly, she quickly withdrew it. The grin on his face made her blush and she laughed. ‘I should like to be there to see that.’

  After breakfast they strolled together to the stable. Boots snorted a greeting as if eager to be off when Alex led him from the stall and began to saddle him. He was a horse who enjoyed company, she thought.

  After tugging at the straps to make sure they were tight enough he turned to her. ‘So what do you need to say to set things straight with me?’

  It was now or never and she murmured, ‘It’s about that other business you mentioned yesterday.’

  ‘If you mean marriage … what of it?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to think … I appreciate that yesterday you acted from the goodness of your heart to a certain amount of pressure from my father, and to save my reputation from ruin.’

  Apart from a faint smile that disappeared as soon as it arrived, there was no hint from Alex that he was even listening. Instead of answering, he said, ‘The reverend plays a tricky game of chess. He had me on the defensive right from the start.’

  Now Alex had put her on the defensive. ‘I want you to know I won’t hold you to any obligation—’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve reached a decision.’ He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. His mouth touched against hers, as gentle and tender as a butterfly alighting on the nectar. Releasing her, he led the horse out of the cozy thatched stable block, where he mounted. ‘I’ll be back in a few days.’

  ‘You didn’t listen to one word I said, Alex LéSayres.’

  He smiled. ‘Ah yes … words. I listened to every one, even the ones you didn’t say. To play the London game I will politely bow over your perfumed hand and suggest I want us to part as the friends we’ve always been, so consider the lie as said and done.’

  Did he really consider the courtship ritual a lie? Well yes, she supposed it was to a man who confessed he was little more than a farmer, and therefore must be closer to the earth and the mating rituals of nature than fancy drawing rooms, dancing and pretty words.

  ‘Now, if you can allow me a moment of honesty, at this moment I’d rather kiss you senseless than talk. After that I’d drag you upstairs to bed, strip us both naked, let down your hair and play with you a little, so you’re all rumpled, blushing and eager to experience what you’ve imagined. And then …’ and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Then, my foxy lady, I’d leave you trembling on the edge of release, so you will almost go out of your mind with the frustration of wondering what the act of love is going to be like between us.’

  ‘And what if that never happens?’

  He ran his finger down her nose. ‘My intention is that it shall. I’ll leave that thought with you as something to look forward to, or not, whichever is your fancy. Make what you will of these words, Vivienne. I want you, and I intend to have you, one way or another. And I think your feelings equal mine and you are looking forward to such an intimate encounter between us.’

  The gasp she gave was loud enough to have been heard in London.

  He chuckled, and clicking his tongue he moved off at a walk, leaving her feeling stunned.

  She stood at the gate and watched him go. How domestic of her when he’d left an image in her mind so vivid it had placed her body in a turmoil that she didn’t think would ever calm down. All the same, she wanted to laugh. Lord, he was so straightforward. He hadn’t stopped to spare her feelings, and had almost robbed her of her senses.

  Alex looked at home on a horse. His balance was perfect, his body relaxed and his thigh muscles adjusted by instinct to the movement of the mount he straddled. She grinned, trying not to imagine that movement in different circumstances. Her mind wouldn’t let it go and she fanned her heated face with the white linen table napkin she still held in her hand.

  Just before the bend in the road that would carry him out of sight, he turned and blew her a kiss. His smile told her he knew exactly how she was feeling and although she was too old to giggle, she did. He knew her too well, and without even trying.

  She stayed there until she could no longer hear the clop of his horse’s hooves, and then she went indoors to clear away the breakfast dishes.

  On her side plate lay a blood red rose. She bore the fragrant bloom to her nose and discovered his signature ring on the stem. She stroked a fingertip over the seal. Alex was proud of his family, and here was a pledge to allow her to become part of it. Or was it just a token?

  She was humbled to think he was willing to sell his estate on her behalf, and pleased he wouldn’t have to.

  ‘Damn you, Alexander LéSayres, you always manage to outguess me,’ she said, and she slipped the ring on to her middle finger to keep it safe until she could find a chain to secure it on.

  Humming to herself, she donned her apron, cleared the table and set the kitchen in order. There was plenty of work to do in the house and garden, and, as usual, she enjoyed doing it.

  Shredding the lamb left over from the day before, she combined it with onions and lentils to use for a pie filling, and placed it in the larder with a damp cloth over it. With peas and potatoes fresh from the garden, it would make a tasty dinner, and there were stewed apples and custard for a pudding.

  Her father enjoyed eating simply, and after the fancy tidbits served at the London supper tables – usually late at night and with more garnish than substance – Vivienne appreciated an earlier dinner. Especially so in the summer, when the light evening could be put to good use with her father in his study composing his sermon, or employed in the garden weeding the vegetable patch. Sometimes they walked the country lanes together, just talking or enjoying the other’s company.

  She had never stopped to consider that he might need more than she, his daughter, could provide. It wasn’t as if he was an elderly man.

  She went upstairs to remove the bedding from the guest room. There was a faint smell of Alex in the air as she pulled off the bed linen. It was lost when she tried to recapture the faint, ghostly essence he’d left behind on the sheets. Alex wouldn’t be caught that easily … only if he wanted to be. His options were still open; she’d made that clear to him.

  You should grab him while you can. What if he challenges Simon Mortimer to a duel and dies? Or what if Simon Mortimer has returned and is waiting for the opportunity to attack again.

  They were both big men. Goodness knows what lies Simon had spread about her. Prickles crept up her spine. Before, it had just been words. Now, since she’d inherited some money, priorities had changed. She’d experienced violence from the same person, a man she knew barely anything about, except this – he was willing to commit a crime against her to get his hands on her fortune, even though he represented the law of the land. He might even kill for it, arrange a convenient accident to befall her if she married him. The world suddenly felt very dangerous.

  The sun went behind a cloud and she shivered and gazed out of the window. He might even be hidden behind the shrubbery, watching her. It was Mrs Tilly’s day off and, except for Maria, who was in the laundry at the back of the house, Vivienne felt isolated and
alone.

  There was a sudden gust of wind, the house creaked, a door slammed downstairs and a draught moaned softly up the stairs and along the corridor. It carried her name on its breath and the hairs on her neck stood on end. Footsteps crept up the stairs and she froze to the spot. ‘Who is it?’ she tried to say, but the words strangled in her throat. When the door creaked open she felt dizzy and held on to the bedpost, trembling. ‘Maria!’

  ‘Miss Fox, there you are. I called you twice.’

  ‘You crept up the stairs and that scared me.’

  ‘I thought you might be asleep … I’m sorry, Miss.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. I was just having one of those moments.’ She could have died from the relief she felt. ‘Thank goodness it’s you.’

  ‘Who else would it be? You look as pale as a ghost. Here, come and sit in this chair for a moment, Miss. I’ll make the bed and then we’ll go down to the kitchen and have a nice cup of tea before Reverend Fox gets home. Mrs Tilly made a fruit cake yesterday, and we can have a slice of that to go with it.’

  ‘You won’t tell my father, will you, Maria. I thought … with the earl no longer here I didn’t feel safe in case someone had managed to climb into the house. I left the window in the dining room open, you see. I suppose you think that’s silly.’

  ‘No … I don’t think that, Miss. It’s only a couple of days since we were attacked, and you got the worst of it. I overheard the earl tell your father how courageous you were to fight back in the way you did.’

  She gave a faint smile. ‘He said that? I don’t feel very courageous now.’

  Maria nodded and busied herself spreading the clean sheets on the bed. ‘There’s bound to be a reaction when you let your imagination run riot. Besides, if anyone climbed in that window he’d have to get through the rose bushes first, and he’d collect a few thorns in his … rear end for his trouble.’ Maria thrust a fierce face at her. ‘And serve him right, that’s what I say!’

  Even though it wasn’t a laughing matter, Vivienne chuckled at the thought of Simon Mortimer impaled thus.