Beguiling the Baron

by Keysian, Elizabeth

  This he was unlikely to do without making an offer of his own. But was he ready to raze the fortress he’d constructed around his heart after Mary?

  Despite the joy that bubbled up at the idea of making Tia irrevocably his, he continued to be beset by doubts. They had yet to come to any consensus about Polly. He wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal to Tia the grim secrets of his marriage and Mary’s death, and he had also to win Sarah Wyndham around. She, although polite enough, clearly neither fully understood nor trusted him.

  Worst of all, if Hal wanted to court Tia in the traditional way—and he did, very much—she would no longer be able to live beneath the same roof as himself. So, in order to win her, he ought to let her go.

  But how could he bear her absence?

  He rapidly discovered, however, why Society had laid such a rule upon its upper echelons. It took all the sang froid he could muster to treat Tia normally in front of her mother and Polly. He was forced to avoid being alone with her, for fear of falling upon her like a ravening wolf, and rapidly removing all barriers between them.

  The situation was intolerable. But he couldn’t think of a solution that would please either of them. Thus, he’d taken to ever more frequent cooling dips in the river, and increasingly bruising rides around his estate.

  A gallop around the bounds was what he needed right now. It was late July, and after a spell of light summer rain, the weather had cleared. He could take Juniper out and tear across Haden’s pasture, perhaps come back along the lane via the village. Afterward, he would have tea and refreshment with Tia.

  His mind conjured up a vision of her face, recalling the delightful way her lips curled up at each corner, the Cupid’s bow of her mouth, and the angle and straightness of her nose. He imagined her eyes, their warm honey-brown color, mellowing into something deeper when she gazed at him. As if she were right before him now, he could see her black lashes and silky eyebrows, charmingly arched, giving her a quizzical appearance. He grinned as he pictured the soft arc between chin and throat—the jaw determined, like its owner.

  He strode across the cobbles of the stable yard and cast an eye around the carriage lodge. Then looked again. His pleasure faded.

  “Michaels!” he called to the head groom, who was leading Juniper out to meet him. “What happened to the Stanhope?”

  “I believe Miss Wyndham took it out to give Miss Pelham a run around the lanes, my lord.”

  Hal’s whip clattered to the cobbles. “Miss Wyndham can drive?”

  “I don’t know, sir, but the young lady wasn’t driving today.”

  Panic slammed into him. “Who the deuce was?”

  “A gentleman called Mr. Leigh. He informed me he was a friend of Mr. Brooks, he whose father is Member of Parliament for—”

  “Yes, yes, I know who his blasted father is.”

  Tia had taken Polly for a carriage ride, without his permission? In the company of a young man? His shock gave way to fury. “What direction did they take?”

  “Toward the village, sir.”

  After the village, the road led along the valley to Chippenham.

  Chippenham? He smacked his fist against his thigh. Of course. Today was the day of the fair she’d been begging him to attend.

  A thousand curses on the woman. Not only had she gone without his permission, but she’d also abducted Polly. What was she thinking, taking Leigh as her escort? It was highly improper. Could she not have taken Lynch, or Aldergate instead?

  Completely unacceptable. He couldn’t allow his future wife to attract the attention of the tabbies by gallivanting off with a young man he’d never even met. Perhaps it was as well he hadn’t yet proposed to her. Evidently more taming was required.

  Seizing his whip from the ground, Hal leapt onto the mounting block and straddled his horse. “Thank you, Michaels. That will be all. Juniper, on.”

  He was going after her.

  And Lord preserve her when he caught up with her.

  Chapter 28

  Hal’s stallion had a magnificent turn of speed cross-country, so that was the way he chose to ride until he reached the turnpike. He slowed down there, to protect the animal’s hooves—but even so, he managed to overtake his Stanhope gig before it reached the town.

  The gig had come to a standstill, mired in the increased traffic, and as Hal was on horseback, he had little difficulty weaving through to confront its occupants.

  “Miss Wyndham, Polly. Mr. Leigh, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He touched a finger to his beaver hat and was pleased at the startled look on the young man’s face. Devil take him, he was a handsome rogue, currently managing the ribbons admirably in the crush. Hal’s fingers whitened on Juniper’s reins.

  Ideally, he should drag the fellow out of his seat and throttle him. Tia would need to be castigated too. But preferably not in public.

  He flushed as he leaned down from the saddle, saying as coolly as he could, “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, Mr. Leigh. I’m the Hon. Miss Pelham’s father. As such, I was supposed to be taking her to the fair today.”

  Even though Hal kept his voice down, he became aware of people staring. Much as he would have liked to call Leigh out, he could hardly do it in front of so many witnesses, nor could he physically assault the fellow, as the fury banked within his breast urged him to do. He clung to his patience and waited, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the treacherous Tia any further.

  Leigh doffed his hat as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Your pardon, my lord. I came around to deliver a book to Miss Wyndham we’d talked about while dining at the Douglas mansion, but found her in a distracted state.”

  “Distracted state?”

  “Indeed. She’d promised Miss Pelham a trip to the fair and told me you were to have accompanied them but were taken ill with severe dyspepsia after an over-indulgence of St. John’s Wort. I trust you’re rather better now, my lord.”

  Dyspepsia? St. John’s Wort?

  My goodness, but I’m going to give Tia a talking-to when I get her home!

  “I find I am much recovered, sir.” Hal struggled to keep the choler out of his tone. “Quite well enough to carry out my initial commission. So, your services are no longer required.”

  Leigh seemed about to protest. Hal kept his face carefully blank but raised one eyebrow the tiniest fraction.

  The young man took the hint. “Miss Wyndham, Miss Pelham.” Leigh tipped his hat to the ladies as he clambered down from his seat.

  Sensible young man.

  Hal slid easily from Juniper’s saddle and reached into his pocket. “Here’s a shilling, Mr. Leigh, so you can find someone to take my stallion back to his stable. After that you may continue on your way—I believe it’s no more than a few hundred yards to the fair field. We can meet up with you there if you wish to walk around with us. Unless you’d prefer to ride Juniper back to Foxleaze yourself, and abandon your plans?”

  Leigh cast an anguished glance at Tia, who appeared extremely self-conscious, then gazed up at Hal’s magnificent black stallion. Faced with the choice between a swift carefree gallop across the fields, and a ramble around Chippenham Fair with an irate baron, the young man took the only viable option.

  With a grim smile of satisfaction, Hal helped him aboard Juniper, received his shilling back again, and climbed into the wide seat of the Stanhope.

  He cast a quelling glance at Tia and received a haughty toss of the head in return. The horses lurched forward as the traffic began moving once again, forcing him to concentrate on driving. It was impossible to reprimand his companions without attracting the attention of the crowd. His harangue must wait for a private moment.

  Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he hunched forward and tried to identify the best route. It was no mean feat navigating his rig between the loaded goods wagons a
nd pack-horses, and the pedestrians with their accompanying hens, children, and baskets. Fortunately, he was an experienced driver, even though he was used to tooling along in rather grander equipages than the gig.

  Above the babble of talk, laughter, honks, as well as grunts and mooing, he was able to catch something of what was happening on the seat behind him. Polly was thoroughly excited, pointing at anything that caught her eye, and bombarding Tia with questions about it. Virtually everyone they encountered was offered a greeting. Each time his daughter announced to complete strangers, “My papa is taking us to the fair, isn’t it thrilling,” Hal winced with embarrassment.

  The last thing he wanted was to attract any more attention.

  Being who he was, however, it was inescapable. Some of the people hereabouts remembered him from when he’d maintained a far more public profile—and were keen to greet him.

  Confound it. If only he’d kept the long hair and beard, he might have escaped their notice, for he loathed indulging in small talk. Yet, bit by bit, the pain of greeting people and touching his hat to them started to recede, and he found himself responding with a cheerful nod, which seemed to satisfy everyone.

  Nonetheless, it was with considerable relief that he finally brought the gig to a halt and paid a dubious-looking man to mind it—at the same time, silently cursing Tia for not coming out with one of the grooms. Barely was this business concluded than Tia and Polly were out of the cart and heading toward the fair field. With a sigh of resignation, he strode off in their wake.

  Chippenham Fair was largely a country event, dealing in sheep, cattle, pigs, fowl, and fodder. Hal allowed himself a moment’s pleasure at seeing the fat, healthy animals and the cheerful faces of the country folk. Every rustic delight imaginable was on offer, from great casks of cider and clove-stuck hams to mutton pies and freshly-roasted hog.

  Entertainment was also available in abundance. Balladeers, poets, musicians demonstrating the cheerful sound of the hurdy-gurdy and hautbois, plied their talent alongside fortune tellers and Romany dancers.

  He stood at Tia’s elbow while Polly gazed in mute fascination at a marionette show.

  “You have behaved very badly,” he whispered in Tia’s ear.

  “And you, Hal, are a hypocrite, for you, too, have behaved badly.”

  True. But at least he hadn’t made a public spectacle of himself. Though the day was yet young.

  “Maybe. But at least I’m prepared to apologize and make amends. I sense no such repentance in yourself.”

  She stared straight ahead, her mouth set primly. “I gave you ample opportunity and reason to allow Polly to come to the fair. You chose not to listen.”

  “I believe I’m permitted to lay down the law in my own house,” he retorted.

  “Not when the law is wrong. Besides, when you let other people into your life, you must expect to have to compromise.”

  Also true, but these things took time. He’d been isolated for too long. “Can you not compromise too, Tia? I’ve asked little else of you.”

  She turned to him, her brown eyes flashing. “Little else? We’re not allowed to sing, you won’t come to church with us, we don’t have visitors, and Polly never gets to play with anyone her own age.”

  He bristled at this. “I never forbade you to have visitors. I merely chose not to be involved if you did.”

  “And who’s going to come, knowing you’re too dismal to speak with them?” she countered, warming to her subject.

  He wasn’t dismal. Not anymore, and he had her to thank for it. But the thoughts and emotions swirling inside his head and heart were newly-born, making him vulnerable. He needed more time.

  “You know I’m not yet fit for company. I’d only spoil your get-togethers.”

  “I can’t disagree.”

  Her words stung his fragile heart like a lash. He averted his head to hide the hurt—

  And discovered Polly had vanished.

  Chapter 29

  He grasped Tia’s elbow. “Where’s Polly?”

  “Oh, my goodness, she was right in front of me only a minute ago. How could she disappear so quickly?”

  He took one look at Tia’s white, frightened face, and battened down his own fears to reassure her. “She can’t be far. If you go right, I’ll go left—and if you haven’t found her in one-quarter of an hour, meet me back here, and we’ll set a search in motion.”

  He didn’t know how he managed to sound so calm when he was in such internal turmoil. It was most unlike him to panic, but the idea some harm might have befallen his daughter filled him with mind-numbing terror. Thrusting his way through the throng, he hunted for his child.

  She can’t have gone far, she can’t have gone far. He’d only disputed with Tia for a moment. Why hadn’t they commanded Polly not to go anywhere without them? Why had he not taken her hand?

  Willing his heart into a steadier rhythm, Hal tried to think logically. If someone had abducted his daughter, they’d have made for the edge of the field, perhaps to where the carts and carriages were drawn up, in order to spirit her away quickly. He should have told Tia to search the stalls, while he searched the margins of the fair. What on earth was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he think straight?

  “Papa?”

  He almost dropped to his knees. “Polly? Thank God, child. Where have you been?”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to blaspheme, Papa. They say so in church. And Miss Wyndham says so too.”

  “I thought I’d lost you.” The urge to fold her to his breast was strong, but how would she respond to such an open display of emotion? If he wanted her to learn to control her emotions, he couldn’t be prey to his own.

  With inevitable childish logic, she replied, “I wasn’t lost. I can find my way easily. I know exactly how to get back to the gig if I need to. And Miss Wyndham is wearing a bronze paisley shawl, so I can find her by her color, and you are a very tall person, so I can see you above other people’s heads.”

  He kept his expression stern. “Not the point. You can’t run off like that, Polly. It’s extremely naughty.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa. I only peeped inside the fortune teller’s booth for a moment to see her crystal ball, and when I came out again, you were gone. I’d only gone half a yard.”

  “It was at least half a dozen, my girl. Don’t tell untruths.”

  “No, Papa. I really am very sorry.” Her lower lip quivered, and tears glistened in the blue-gray eyes.

  Hal groaned inwardly and softened his voice. “All right. Apology accepted. Don’t do it again. And now we must find Miss Wyndham, before she, too, is lost.”

  “She isn’t lost. I can see her by the stand with the red ribbons. Bronze paisley shawl—I told you.”

  Tia was soon reunited with her charge, and although she was decidedly businesslike in the way she dealt with the child, he could see she was as relieved as he was.

  The stall with the red ribbons turned out to be selling— amongst other things—the juice of crushed raspberries and strawberries, albeit at an exorbitant cost. Polly, of course, had to have some, and he bought a cup for Tia too, secretly relishing the way it stained her lips a darker red, igniting wicked thoughts about the movement of her tongue as she licked it off.

  Polly inevitably spilled some down her dress. Later on, she also tripped on a tent peg, bruised her foot, and got grass stains on her skirts. The fair was proving to be more hazardous than a battlefield, and he was certain someone had attempted to pick his pocket on more than one occasion.

  “I pride myself on having managed to keep my temper thus far, Miss Wyndham, considering the numerous inconveniences of this outing. I’m yet to be convinced such activities can be construed as pleasant.”

  But Tia’s spirits seemed indefatigable. “Really, sir? Don’t tell me you’ve nev
er been to a fair before.”

  “I assure you I haven’t. I wish I had a guinea for every countrywoman who has banged my elbow with her basket today.”

  “You should try and participate instead of lurking around looking like you’re sucking a lemon. Anyway, we’re not here for your pleasure—we’re here for Polly’s.”

  “Where has she got to now? Oh, for heaven’s sake, she’s making for the dance-floor.” In complete exasperation, he called out, “Polly, no. I forbid it.”

  “I’m sorry, Hal.” Tia gave his elbow a squeeze. “I hadn’t realized she would be quite so uncontrollable. I’d better go and rescue her.”

  He watched Tia make her way to the primitive staging erected on the most level part of the field. A group of musicians had struck up a lively air, and some of the younger fair-goers were already stamping their feet on the boards.

  Tia, far from rescuing Polly, darted in amongst them, seized her charge’s hands and swung her around in a large circle, grinning broadly.

  The bare-faced cheek of the woman. Hal surged forward furiously, only to trip on the basket Tia had left down by his feet. What was he now, a servant to guard their baggage? A packhorse? Muttering ferociously, he picked up the basket and marched up to the staging, determined to take control of the situation.

  The other onlookers must have sensed his bristling presence, for they gave him space—and a good view of the dancing. The couples had broken up and were now dancing with other people in their sets. Tia was being swung vigorously about by a young man in fustian breeches, and she was laughing back into his pleasant, sun-browned face. Hal chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wanted to put his fist in that face. Some other fellow seized Tia—a much older gentleman this time, but equally unsuitable.

  The basket handle creaked from the pressure of his fingers. Thankfully the music had ceased. But the dancers showed no sign of leaving the floor, and almost immediately the fiddle struck up another, even faster melody. Polly was scooped up by a jovial-looking boy, while a dark-haired man with silver buttons and a striped waistcoat bowed in front of Tia.