‘That I wished he would go to the devil,’ Robert said, with the slightest of smiles on his face.
‘What motivated you to say such a thing?’
‘I believe it was his threat to black my eye.’
‘So, you are both incorrigible,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘That is one way to describe it,’ he said.
‘Well, then, what is to be done?’ she said.
‘Done?’
‘I have promised his wife a ball,’ she said. ‘It will be most awkward if our husbands cannot be in the same room without fighting.’
‘We do not actually fight,’ he allowed. ‘Of course, we are not usually together long enough for it to come to that.’
‘Then the invitation to dinner was exactly what was needed. I suggest while they are here, we women will go off to the sitting room and the two of you drink your port and you will make an effort to behave in a civil fashion with your brother, as you do with me,’ she reminded him. ‘If he is all the relation you have and has survived Napoleon, despite your curse, he should be allowed to brave the family home without your attempts to drive him away.’
Chapter Sixteen
Emma was meddling in his affairs and he could not quite figure out what to do about it. Forbidding her from doing things was having surprisingly little effect.
Perhaps Jack had been right and marriage was softening him even after so little time. And thinking of that, what was he to do about the fact that she had invited his brother to dinner and expected them to get along as normal siblings did?
Under the lax care of their grandfather, his little brother had grown first into a reckless man, then into a decorated war hero. But Robert still remembered him as the frightened little boy who had been parted from him when they were young. Seeing him now was like meeting a stranger and being told to get on like family.
That was exactly what his wife was telling him to do. She should not be the one dictating to him. It should be his job to tell her what things were and were not done in this house. Yet he could not seem to manage it.
Most annoying of all, her efforts had, for the most part, been successful. Other than the unfortunate spell at the festival, the problems that had occurred had been minor enough that it made his refusal to socialise seem unnecessarily cautious. And when she had been faced with a real challenge at the Pritchett dinner, she had handled it with none of the panic he sometimes got when stressed.
Perhaps she truly was his better half. When he thought of her, he felt an unusual lightness of spirit, as if it might be possible to weather even the worst problems without fear. Such optimism was new to him and he was not sure he trusted it.
There was a cautious knock on the door and the butler entered and announced, ‘Mr Watt is here to see you.’
It seemed he was about to get a chance to test his new mood. Watt was his man of business and a visit from him was never good news. Instinctively Robert braced himself for whatever fresh problem was about to be unveiled. ‘Show him in.’
The man came into the room, taking a chair that Robert offered him. ‘I have news on the mine in Cornwall,’ his man of business said with no preamble.
‘How could things get any worse than they already are?’ Robert said, leaning back in his chair and waiting for the inevitable disappointment.
‘I expected such a reaction from you. That was why I chose to deliver the information in person,’ the other man said with a smile. Was there a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he was enjoying his chance to prolong the revelation?
There was that strange feeling of hope again, nagging at him that not everything had to be a disaster. Robert let out a puff of air and tried to pretend that Watt’s delaying did not bother him. ‘Very well then. You have news and you expect the worst from me. But you have yet to tell me what is going on.’
‘The mine is running again,’ Watt replied. ‘They have found a fresh vein, even richer than the last one. Production has already begun and we can expect equally rich profits, just as we hoped from the first.’
Now, his mood changed from hope to shock at this unfamiliar turn of events. ‘There is no chance that you have misunderstood?’ he said, still not willing to believe what he had heard.
‘I have just come from the mine and seen the ore myself,’ Watt replied and now he was grinning.
‘Very interesting,’ Robert said cautiously, trying to understand what had been told to him. His luck always changed and no good news lasted for ever. But he could not remember the last time that bad luck had reversed itself. ‘Please keep me abreast of any further changes.’
‘Of course, Sir Robert.’ Watt was still smiling at him, waiting to see shared enthusiasm. When it did not come, he excused himself with a promise to keep Robert informed of any changes, good or bad.
After he was gone, Robert sat in silence for a moment, stunned. If the mine paid as it should, that meant that he had not needed to marry in haste for money. He’d had but to be patient and wait for his investment to bear fruit.
But he could not seem to regret finding Emma. Though it had been impossible to get her to follow the rules he had set for her, he enjoyed the way she challenged him to be more than he had been. And mightn’t it be possible that marrying her had caused the positive change in his fortune?
If that was true, he might be free of the fears that had plagued him for years. He had not been raised to believe that he would have a life where success was possible and death a thing that occurred at a ripe, old age. But suppose he had been wrong? What if all he’d ever needed was time, patience and someone who would argue him into optimism and force him to face his fears?
He grinned. If a dead mine could come back to life, then perhaps he could revive as well. But was he brave enough to test the limits of his luck?
He threw down the paper he had been reading and walked out of the house to the stable. Then, he had a groom saddle his most spirited horse. Titan was a large black gelding that he rode far too seldom, partly in caution from the risks that came with managing a big horse. But today the weather was fair and his spirits better than they had been in years. It was a perfect day to test his nerve.
He trotted away from the house, then brought the horse to a canter before turning and galloping for a fence at the bottom of the hill. It had been an age since he’d jumped even the smallest obstacle. Beth had still been alive and he’d been young enough to laugh at danger, certain that nothing could touch him.
Today, he must remember what it had felt like to be carefree and fearless. So, he took a breath and took the jump. The horse sailed over the obstacle as if there had been nothing in the way at all and he felt the all-too-brief feeling of weightless freedom, followed by the bump of landing.
He was whole and unhurt, as was the horse. There was not a trace of nervousness in him, nor any indication that he might be laid low by another attack. And for a moment, at least, he felt invincible. He felt even better as he turned them back towards the house and saw his wife, running to greet him, clapping her hands in glee. He stilled the horse so he could admire her movements, her long, graceful strides eating up the distance between them.
She arrived at his side flushed and out of breath, but still smiling as if seeing him was the greatest gift she could receive, and his heart clenched in a way that was entirely new, as if it was suddenly so full of feeling that it might overflow.
‘Magnificent,’ she said, staring up at him in wonder.
He grinned down at her and ran a hand through his windblown hair. ‘Me, or the animal?’ Then he tugged at his reins and brought his horse down into a bow.
She clapped her hands in approval. ‘Both, of course. But your mount is a beauty.’
‘You may pet him if you like,’ he said, still smiling. ‘He is surpassing gentle for an animal with such excellent spirit.’
Emma stepped forw
ard and patted the velvety nose of the horse, only to have him snuffle in disappointment at her hand. ‘No, I do not have a treat for you,’ she laughed and whispered to the horse. ‘But I will speak to your rider and see that you are well rewarded for your service.’
‘There are several animals that would suit, if you are interested in joining me on my rides,’ he said.
She stepped away hurriedly, shaking her head. ‘Unfortunately, sir, I do not ride.’
‘You do not ride,’ he repeated, incredulous.
‘Side saddles and I do not agree,’ she said with a shudder that made him think of all the other ways she was hindered, trying to be a proper young lady.
Then, an idea came to him that he was sure would shock her, even though it was the most logical solution to her problem. ‘Have you tried riding astride?’ he asked.
‘Of course not.’ As he had expected, she sounded mortified at the very idea of it.
‘As with so many other things we have discussed, you might find it will make your life easier if you do not try so hard to conform,’ he said. ‘Astride, you will have a more stable seat and I am sure you will find it easier to control the horse.’
She shook her head, adamant. ‘I cannot ride astride in a skirt.’
‘Then borrow a pair of my breeches,’ he replied, thinking of how those long legs might look encased in buckskin. ‘It is a most sensible garment for such activities.’
‘I cannot dress like a man,’ she said, ‘Not even for the chance to...’ She glanced back at the fence, clearly longing for a chance to take a jump.
‘I could teach you to jump,’ he said, daring her to misbehave. ‘And to gallop. I bet you have never even tried that.’
‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘The few times I went to Rotten Row we only walked the horses. Mother assured me that other gaits were not needed because I would surely break my neck if I tried them.’
‘You will not be hurt if a skilled rider holds the reins,’ he said and held out a hand to pull her up in the saddle.
She stared at his hand as if unsure of what to do.
‘Let me take you up,’ he coaxed. ‘Just for a short ride around the yard. It is perfectly safe.’
She looked at him in amazement and well she should. He promised her safety. When had words such as those last left his mouth? But today, he was sure they were true.
‘A short ride,’ she said, as if today she was the one who needed convincing. Then she swallowed her trepidations and held out her hand to him.
He pulled her up easily and settled her in front of him, her hips pressing intimately into his breeches. A day ago, he would have put some distance between them to prevent temptation. But today, he feared nothing and hugged her all the tighter.
In response, she reached her hands timidly around his waist.
‘That’s it,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hang on tightly.’ His elbows framed her body as he kicked the horse up to a trot.
‘Oh, my.’ He felt her trembling in his arms as the wind rushed by them, but it was from excitement rather than fear. So he nudged the horse to a gallop and made her squeal with delight. They tore down the road away from the house, the trees flying by in a blur on either side of them.
* * *
When they had gone nearly a mile, he drew the horse to a stop, his hands relaxing their grip on her and the reins. ‘And what do you think of that?’
‘Splendid,’ she said, her eyes glowing with happiness.
‘And if you were to ride astride, you might race me down the road on your own horse,’ he suggested.
‘It is wicked of you to even suggest it,’ she reminded him.
‘I am your husband,’ he reminded her. ‘I could command you to do it, if I wished.’
A thrill of heat passed between them at these words and he could not help imagining other things he might demand that had nothing to do with avoiding his bed.
‘I have not been very successful at following your orders so far,’ she reminded him with a smile.
‘Then perhaps I should forbid you from riding, so you can do it to spite me,’ he said.
She bit her lip, still considering. ‘We would not leave the property. No one need ever know what I had done.’
‘No one but me,’ he said. And her maid and the groom that saddled the horses. Which meant that all the servants would likely know by supper time. But if she had not thought of that, he was not going to tell her.
‘My mother would say that dressing like a man is most certainly wicked. And obviously it is unladylike.’ Then she shrugged. ‘But as long as she never knows, I will not have to hear the lecture. If it will make it possible for me to gallop without falling off the horse, I might be willing to try.’
‘Very good,’ he said, surprised at how much the prospect amused him. ‘I will send a pair of breeches to your room and, the next time we go out, it shall be for a proper ride.’
Chapter Seventeen
For the dinner with her in-laws, Emma took extra care with the menu, sending a letter to Lucy to enquire if her husband had any favourite dishes that could be served. Thinking of her husband’s warning about disastrous dinners of the past, she chose a fish course of poached pike that had been pulled out of the river that same day.
At eight, when her guests arrived, she greeted Lucy warmly and the other woman reciprocated, then stepped out of the way to reveal her husband, paused on the doorstep as if he had to push through some unseen barrier before he could enter.
Major Gascoyne was no longer in uniform, but he had the upright bearing of a military man and the keen eye of one used to watching for danger. Tonight, he was eyeing his old home as if he expected an attack might happen at any moment. Was he secretly obsessed with the curse as well? Or was it his brother that he did not trust? For he was staring at Robert as if at an enemy.
In turn, Robert stared back unsmiling, ignoring his brother’s wife entirely and greeting him with the single word, ‘John.’
‘Robert.’ Major Gascoyne’s response was equally devoid of warmth. But as Robert stepped clear of the doorway, he entered, glancing around him in displeasure. ‘The place has not changed since I was here as a child.’
‘It has not been that long since I married,’ Robert replied. ‘It will take some time for Emma to shake the cobwebs from it.’
Was that what was expected of her? she wondered. Though she had instructed the servants to paint over the fresco in the ballroom, there had been no other talk of redecorating during any of the conversations she’d had with him. Perhaps it was a spiritual cleansing that was sought. At the moment, it certainly seemed like a dreary place, despite the tall ceilings and fine furnishings.
‘It has been but six months since your own marriage, has it not?’ Emma supplied, desperate to fill the void in the conversation.
‘Boxing Day in Scotland,’ Lucy supplied, her smile broad.
‘It was very sudden,’ Robert added in a way that bordered on rudeness.
‘On the contrary, it was five years overdue,’ the Major corrected, his face lighting up in a smile as he turned to look at his wife. ‘I needed to find a way to make my fortune before I could be taken seriously as a suitor.’
‘For my family, perhaps,’ Lucy said with an equally fond look. ‘I would have married you whenever you asked.’
‘Now your marriage was sudden,’ Jack said, changing the subject. ‘Too quick to send out invitations to it, I gather.’
Emma winced, wondering if her mother had even bothered with a guest list, since she was so eager to see the two of them wed and a title secured.
‘I did not think you would be interested in coming,’ Robert replied, his eyes locked on his brother’s.
‘We shall never know,’ his brother reminded him.
‘It is good that we live so near and have the opportunity to remedy that omission of hospitality,
’ Emma said hurriedly, glaring in her husband’s direction. ‘I hope dinner will be just as fine as our wedding breakfast was.’
‘And it will give us the opportunity to speak without interruption of others in the party,’ Lucy said, looking daggers at her husband as well.
‘I am sure we have much to talk about,’ Robert replied in a tone that said he had no idea what it might be.
* * *
As it turned out, the dinner was not as fine as the breakfast. Though the fish was excellent, the beef was burnt and the ice cream melted. Perhaps Robert had been right all along and they were cursed. On this, of all nights, she needed everything to go well, but could not seem to manage it.
At least the forced proximity of the two brothers allowed her an excuse to question them about the past to try to find some common ground between them. ‘When was it that you first came to live here, Major Gascoyne?’ she asked.
‘I was all of seven at the time,’ the Major said with a smile. ‘Robert was twelve and sent away to finish his schooling.’
‘And before that?’ Emma probed.
‘We were in the care of our loving father and stepmother,’ Robert said with a roll of his eyes. ‘I doubt Jack remembers much of the time we spent in London.’
‘I was not an infant,’ his brother snapped. ‘I remember a series of indifferent nannies and tutors.’
‘When they could afford them,’ Robert added.
‘And a certain permissive air to our free hours,’ he added with a grin.
‘That was how you remember it?’ Robert said, his eyes wide with surprise.
‘I remember you stealing food from the kitchen for us, and the odd feasts we would have, from whatever you could get away with,’ Jack said with a grin.
‘I gave you whatever food was left in the house,’ Robert said, sounding faintly disgusted. ‘And when there was none to be found, I sometimes begged for scraps from the neighbours’ servants.’
There was an awkward pause in the conversation. Then, Jack broke the tension with a nervous laugh. ‘Well, I remember it as an adventure.’
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