The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

They looked at one another, perhaps unsure how to react.

  “You’re very welcome, miss,” one of the maids said.

  “That’s kind of you, miss,” the footman added.

  Cara read pride in their faces at having their good work acknowledged. She made up her mind that she would do her best never to take such service for granted now that she was on the receiving end of it.

  She and Amelia went to the stable, where the groom, Mr. Hart, hitched Mr. Perrine’s horse to his carriage. They all rode it together the short distance to the dower house, which Amelia found to be great fun.

  As Mr. Perrine and Langham emerged from the studio, Cara could see that their time together had been good for Langham, as she’d anticipated.

  It wasn’t until Mr. Perrine had driven away and Amelia had gone to inspect some butterfly bushes in the little garden beside the dower house that Cara was able to speak with Langham alone. “Why was your father so set against your going to the academy?”

  “He said I needed proper discipline and I wouldn’t get it at an art school.”

  “Were you that much in need of discipline?”

  Langham’s lips quirked. “I am always in need of discipline. Haven’t you caught on to that by now?”

  It was hard to be amused at this because she heard the pain beneath his words.

  “I was sixteen and would have been among the youngest pupils at the academy. But my father said no, off to Eton you go.” He heaved a sigh. “He told me I had to pull my weight, find a ‘real’ profession. Just as Henry tells me now.”

  These were not problems Cara had ever associated with the aristocracy. She’d thought they had nothing to do but enjoy their leisure pursuits. But in the short time she’d known him, she had yet to get the impression that Henry had any leisure time at all. “What is the business venture mentioned at dinner last night? Something about a mine?”

  Langham scrunched his nose. “The family is in need of money, so Henry has decided to sully his hands with business and trade.”

  “How can he be in need of money? He’s an earl!”

  Langham laughed at her naïveté. “Blue blood is often in need of gold coin.”

  “But all this—!” Cara indicated the beautiful landscape all around them.

  “It costs money to run and maintain. Farm rents no longer cover it all. Henry was locked out of a lucrative investment opportunity by a powerful duke who doesn’t like him. We have a copper mine in Cornwall that could bring in a lot of money. However, it takes a great deal of capital to get the operation going. Henry needs investors. He’s hoping he can get Hayward to be one.”

  “It’s critically important, I suppose?”

  “I expect the future of our family depends upon it.” The words were heavy, but Langham spoke nonchalantly, as though he had a sense of fatalism about the family falling to ruin.

  “What if Lord Nigel turns down the offer?” Or worse, she added to herself, what if that should happen, and it should somehow be her fault? She supposed it was an unreasonable fear, but then, fears were rarely reasonable.

  “He’ll get it straightened out somehow.” Langham fanned himself with his straw hat. “Let’s get back inside. There’s money in painting, even if Henry refuses to believe it.”

  Langham was soon lost in his work. Cara was starting to recognize when his focus was exactly where it needed to be. He seemed unaware of anyone around him.

  With Amelia happily engaged outside, Cara decided to spend time on the portrait she’d begun of the child. It was a first pass in watercolors, based on some of the drawings she’d made over the past weeks. Perhaps one day she’d attempt a proper portrait in oils. Whether she could match the skill on display in the other paintings at Morestowe Manor remained to be seen.

  In the end, she found it impossible to concentrate. Her mind kept returning to Henry, trying to envision what might be happening. They would be traveling home by now, for it was nearing teatime. Would he return in jubilation at having secured the financial deal he needed so badly? Or was he coming in anger, having learned a criminally negligent woman was spending time with his ward? She would not rest easy until she knew that nothing terrible had come from today.

  Setting aside her work, she went looking for Amelia. She found her lying on her back on one of the garden’s marble benches. At first, Cara thought she was dozing, but then she saw the girl had a rose in her hand that she must have picked from one of the nearby bushes. She was staring up at the clouds, twirling the flower in her fingers and singing. It sounded like a lullaby, but it wasn’t one Cara had heard before.

  Happy rosebud, happy May; baby sleeps till break of day.

  When the dew falls on the nest, robin sleeps on Mama’s breast.

  Never worry, never frown; Papa soon returns to town.

  “That’s very pretty,” Cara said, approaching the girl. “Where did you learn it?”

  Amelia sat up, looking startled. “It’s just something I remember from before. From when I was little.” She rose from the bench. “Is it teatime? I’m hungry. Can we eat under the trees again?”

  As they returned to the house, Cara thought over Amelia’s words. It was tempting to smile at the idea of a seven-year-old saying when I was little, but perhaps there was something to it. Henry had said Amelia came to live with him at age four. Did she retain some memories of her life before that time? If so, how clear were they? Cara had been six years old when her mother died. Her memories were imperfect and yet powerful, especially the sensation of being wrapped in her mother’s arms.

  Had Amelia’s mother sung that song to her? The child had obviously heard it enough times to retain it over the years.

  Cara hesitated to ask any further questions. Remembering Amelia’s violent reaction when Cara had said the word orphans, she thought it best not to ask about her mother, but only to accept whatever the child might offer.

  Cara was able to arrange tea under the trees. Langham did not emerge from the dower house, so they began to eat without him. Cara knew he would come in his own time.

  Amelia seemed content to linger at the table after tea, and Cara, too, felt no desire to leave. There was still no sign of Langham. Nor of Henry and Jacob, for that matter. It occurred to Cara that perhaps she and Amelia were waiting here in anticipation of Henry’s arrival. This spot afforded a good vantage point for seeing carriages as they came up the long drive from the main road.

  Before long, they saw the carriage in the distance. Amelia sprang up and began running toward them before Cara had even risen from her chair. The reason for the child’s excitement was plain to see: trotting behind the carriage on a lead rope was a brown-and-white pony.

  Cara hurried in Amelia’s wake, desperate to get a good look at Henry’s face and glean what state he was in.

  He pulled the carriage to a stop, grinning at the sight of Amelia running toward him and shrieking with glee. As his gaze moved from the girl to Cara, his smile seemed to change, but not to fade. She had the impression he was happy to see her. The burden she’d been carrying all day slipped from her shoulders.

  CHAPTER

  24

  IT’S A PONY!” Amelia, still breathless from running, had stopped a few feet away from the creature, every fiber of her being vibrating with joy. “Such a pretty pony!”

  Henry had been hesitant at first to accept the offer, even though Hayward named a reasonable price for the pony and all its tack, including the custom-made sidesaddle. Plus, Henry could keep the pony for a month before making a final decision. Even though acquired so inexpensively, the pony would still cost money to maintain. But seeing the way Amelia had raced toward them, and her expression now as she understood the horse was for her, made him glad a thousand times over that he’d done it. He’d just have to add Maisie’s expenses to his growing list.

  The ten-mile ride from Roxwell Abbey had given Henry plenty of time to brood over the setback and discuss the matter with Jacob. His friend had encouraged him to press forward, insisting th
ere were others who would be able and willing to back this project. On some level, Henry knew this was true; however, it was harder for him to match Jacob’s confidence that the answer would come at exactly the right time.

  If watching the child sprint over the wide green lawn had been pleasing, so was the sight of Cara as she followed. She was not wearing a hat, and the summer breeze played with loose wisps of her hair. Although moving rapidly, she still looked graceful. She paused about twenty yards off. Meeting his gaze, she beamed in answer to his own smile and then waved before closing the gap between them. That simple gesture vibrated a tiny chord deep in his soul.

  Had he stared too long at her? He turned to see Jacob looking at him with amusement. “Yes?” Henry prompted, more an accusation than a question.

  “You’re smiling.”

  “Of course I’m smiling. I’ve just made a little girl very happy.”

  “That must be it.” But Jacob’s lopsided grin implied he’d had something else in mind.

  Henry covered his discomfort by busily securing the reins and jumping down to join Cara and Amelia. “This is Maisie,” he told them.

  Amelia turned to look at him. “Is she . . . ours?”

  Her eyes shone with joy, giving Henry a pleasant sensation of satisfaction and happiness all rolled up together. “We have Maisie on trial from Lord Nigel, but yes, if she works out, we can keep her.”

  It was clear from Amelia’s broad smile that she interpreted this as a yes. She didn’t foresee any issues with Maisie “working out.” She tentatively reached out to pat the pony’s neck. It nudged her in return, and Amelia giggled as Maisie’s movement pushed her slightly off balance.

  “She is very pretty,” Cara said. “Look at the charming white streak on her nose.”

  “Shall I drive the carriage to the stable while the rest of you continue with Maisie?” Jacob offered. He was still sitting in the box seat, smiling down at them.

  “Thank you, that’s an excellent idea,” Henry answered, more than willing to stretch his legs after the long drive.

  He loosed the pony’s lead rope from the carriage, and they waited until Jacob was far enough ahead for the dust to settle behind him before they began walking toward the stable.

  Cara looked over the child’s head at Henry. “It seems your trip to Roxwell Abbey was successful.”

  “Yes, it was good to see Lord Nigel again. And it was fortuitous that he had this pony that his cousin’s daughter had outgrown.”

  Henry left it at that. The most important thing he’d hoped to accomplish today had not happened, and that was perhaps what Cara was subtly asking about. But Henry didn’t want to discuss the family’s financial matters. Certainly not in front of the child. “Amelia, Lord Nigel tells me Maisie can be much too clever at times. But he insists she’s not naughty, just cheeky. What do you think of that?”

  Amelia’s eyebrows drew together as she thought over this description of the pony’s character. Apparently deciding she would be the winner in whatever tussles lay ahead, she said confidently, “Maisie will be nice for me.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Cara said, laughing.

  By the time they reached the stable yard, the assistant groom was unhitching the horse from Henry’s carriage. The saddle, bridle, and other items for Maisie that Hayward had included in the deal had been unloaded onto a bench, and Mr. Hart was inspecting them.

  “This is a right fine saddle, your lordship,” Mr. Hart told him. “Excellent workmanship.” He walked over to Maisie. “This is the little lady it’s intended for, eh?”

  Hart gave the pony a thorough inspection, looking in its mouth and running practiced hands over its back and legs. “She looks healthy, sir.” He had to work to get the horse to lift its hooves, but eventually he got a good look at all of them and pronounced the horseshoes to be in fine shape, too. As he set down the last hoof, Maisie gave a snort and sidestepped impatiently.

  “She’s a plucky one,” Hart said with a grin. He winked at Amelia, who had watched the entire process with fascination. “But then, so are you, Miss Amelia!”

  Amelia grinned, considering this a compliment. She was generally more manageable in the country than in London, but lately Henry thought he saw a different aspect of her demeanor. He thought Cara was the catalyst. Then again, it could be nothing more than evidence that Amelia was enjoying a summer with the freedom to do the things she loved without too many restraints.

  Although he could never say this aloud, he was sure a big part of Amelia’s satisfaction was the continued absence of his mother. When she returned, things could revert to the way they’d been before. It might even be worse, because although she’d resisted starting Amelia on riding lessons, once they began, she would want to be involved. The countess was a highly skilled horsewoman and deplored ladies who did not learn to ride properly. Her standards were high, and she would impose them on Amelia from the start.

  “When can I ride her?” Amelia asked, startling Henry by asking the very question he was considering.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Hooray!” Amelia bounced so much from excitement that her feet nearly left the ground.

  “Doesn’t she need a teacher? And riding clothes?” Cara interjected.

  “Mr. Hart will make a fine teacher. He has a lot of experience.” In fact, when Henry had hired him two years ago, a big factor had been Hart’s fifteen years of experience working for a large family in Colchester. Hart had overseen the riding lessons for their four daughters. His training method was one of the best Henry had heard of. It was bound to get Amelia confidently riding before the countess returned to Morestowe. That prospect made Henry eager to get started.

  “I recommend the young ladies wear their gymnastic costumes for the first several lessons,” Mr. Hart said. “That will help us ensure the positioning of the legs is right and that she is seated properly in the saddle.”

  “Do you have such clothes?” Cara asked Amelia.

  The girl nodded. “Miss Gunther used to make me do cal-is-then-ics on the lawn.” She spoke the long word carefully, although her face scrunched in distaste at the memory.

  “This will be more fun, won’t it?” Henry said, not wanting her to dwell on memories of her rigid former governess.

  Amelia reached up to pat Maisie’s neck again. This time the pony didn’t seem to notice. It swung its head toward the stable and whinnied.

  Mr. Hart chuckled. “They always know when the others are getting fed. She wants her share of the rations, too.”

  “Excellent idea,” Henry said. “In fact, I’m heartily looking forward to my own dinner. We missed tea.”

  “May I come to dinner with you?” Amelia asked, even though she knew full well she was supposed to eat in the nursery.

  “You are not quite ready for that,” Henry said firmly. “Besides, you should get to bed early so you will be rested for riding lessons in the morning.”

  “But I haven’t had a chance to talk to Mr. Reese yet!” Amelia countered. Apparently, the fact that she’d talked his ear off at tea yesterday didn’t count.

  “I’ll be around tomorrow,” Jacob said. “In the meantime, you shall have my undivided attention right now as we walk back to the house. Why don’t you tell me about your art lesson?”

  Taking hold of her hand, he began to walk briskly, leaving Henry and Cara to follow. Amelia skipped to keep up with him and launched into a description of Mr. Perrine and what he had taught her.

  “I’d forgotten all about the art lesson,” Henry admitted. “How did it go?”

  Cara gave him a brief account of the day. He was glad to hear things had gone well.

  “Roxwell Abbey is nice, I suppose?” She changed to this new subject without preamble.

  “It’s a pleasant enough place. Its upkeep was neglected by the former owner, but Lord Nigel has many plans for it.”

  “Did he happen to say anything about his fiancée?”

  “Only that Miss Needenham is the most charming, bea
utiful, and gracious lady ever to walk the earth.”

  Cara laughed. “Theirs will be a happy marriage, I think.”

  “No doubt.”

  “She wasn’t there, I suppose? I mean, visiting with her family?”

  Henry wondered why Cara should take a particular interest in the woman. He supposed that, like most ladies, she enjoyed reading the society columns and following the lives of the well-to-do. “I believe Lord Nigel said she’s been staying with her aunt this season, and they are presently at another house party.”

  “And you told him all about Amelia, I suppose?”

  This was beginning to feel like an inquisition, even though Cara maintained a tone of friendly interest. He glanced at her before answering. “He already knew I had a young ward. I did little except add that she is a strong-minded young lady. We both agreed she and Maisie were likely to understand one another very well.”

  Cara smiled at this. She did not ask any more questions, though he still had the feeling something was on her mind. Perhaps she was trying to ascertain whether they had talked about her. The truth was, Henry had been careful not to mention her. He didn’t want to say so outright because the explanation would have embarrassed them both. Hayward was aware of the rumors surrounding Amelia’s parentage. He had not been rude or snide about it, but Henry could tell Hayward believed he was her father. Because of this, Henry felt mentioning the single, unchaperoned young lady staying in his home wouldn’t do his reputation any favors.

  Much later, after Amelia had been put to bed and the rest of them had reconvened for dinner, Henry wished he’d been able to tell Hayward about her after all. Cara had a certain charm in her own right. Tonight she wore a very becoming pale pink gown, and her hair had once again been prettily styled by the maid. She had quickly learned how to navigate the intricacies of the dinner service; although this was only her third night at the house, Henry thought her manners were as good as anyone’s. Despite her humble beginnings, she seemed to fit in naturally to these surroundings. There was much laughter as she and the others discussed the events of the day and anticipated tomorrow.