A raucous cry went up as the game in progress came to an end, interrupting whatever Anglesey had been about to ask.
‘Come along, Anglesey,’ Kent said cheerfully, pocketing his winnings. ‘You’re up next and I’m more than willing to relieve you of a few guineas.’
Anglesey gave an abstracted smile. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Brin, removing his coat and selecting a cue from the rack secured to the wall.
Alone temporarily, Brin returned his attention to the gardens beyond the window. He was surprised when a woman came into view, wrapped in a cloak, the hood of which failed to remain in place in the windy conditions. It was Lady Hazel’s friend, Brin instinctively knew. Only she would be tempted outside in such conditions—although how he could be so certain when he hadn’t even been introduced to the lady he could not have said.
Her hem would be covered in mud, as would her half-boots, but that difficulty didn’t seem to concern her. She threw her head back and a cascade of brown hair flew from its pins. She tried to reclaim it but as quickly abandoned the attempt, probably thinking that no one could see her. All the guest chambers had windows on the other side of the house and only the kitchens and the billiards room enjoyed this particular view. She was heading for the wilderness beyond the kitchen gardens which would lead her, in a circuitous way, to the lake, one of Brin’s favourite spots on the estate.
Feeling as though the walls of the room were closing in on him, Brin abandoned his empty glass. Everyone’s attention was on the billiards. Anglesey was proving to be a rare and worthy opponent and Kent was having to concentrate hard. Wagers were being struck on the outcome, noisy encouragement accompanied Anglesey’s shots and no one noticed Brin slip quietly from the room.
Without bothering to put on a coat or a hat that would never have remained in place in near-gale force conditions, he left the abbey by a side door and took the path that would ensure an accidental meeting with Miss Dorset.
*
Farrah hung back as Hazel made her curtsey to the rather formidable dowager duchess.
‘Welcome, my dear. You are just as pretty as your mama warned me to expect,’ the duchess said, beaming at Hazel and touching her cheek in a familiar gesture as she critically examined Hazel’s countenance, as though seeking flaws. Farrah thought her excessively impolite.
Hazel blushed and lowered her eyes. ‘It is a very great pleasure to make your acquaintance, your grace. This is my friend, Miss Dorset.’ She reached for Farrah’s arm and pulled her forward.
Farrah curtsied dutifully, aware of the antagonism in the duchess’s expression as she eyed her with distaste, making no effort to conceal her disdain. Farrah didn’t speak, aware that she must first wait for the duchess to address her. She thought it very bad-mannered of the wretched woman not to do so immediately in order to put Farrah at her ease. But it quickly became apparent that neither the duchess nor Hazel’s mama had any thought for Farrah’s comfort. Why that should be was less obvious. Her connections were respectable enough not to lower the tone, and she was certainly no threat to the combined aspirations of the duchess and Lady Beardsley.
‘Ah yes.’ The duchess finally condescended to speak as she gave Farrah’s person a scathing appraisal. ‘She will be no distraction,’ she added in a badly concealed aside to Lady Beardsley.
Farrah bit her tongue hard in an effort not to give the horrible woman the stern retort her discourtesy warranted. In Farrah’s opinion, ladies in the duchess’s elevated situation had a duty to make lesser mortals feel at their ease instead of emphasising their superiority over them.
‘It is a pleasure to be here, your grace,’ she forced herself to say, crossing her fingers to negate the lie.
‘Of course it is. I dare say you are not accustomed to such distinguished company. Just remember your place and I’m sure we shall get along.’ The duchess turned away. ‘Walker, show our guests to their rooms. Tea will be served in the drawing room in half an hour.’
The duchess sailed away from them as Walker led the way towards the stairs with stately aplomb. Butlers, in Farrah’s opinion, could be the most terrifying creatures in the world, at least as socially aware as their masters, and so she was astounded when Walker offered her the suggestion of a sympathetic smile.
‘You are in here, Lady Beardsley,’ he said, opening the door to a large chamber, ‘with Lady Ellen.’
‘Oh no, I cannot share. Ellen must be with Lady Hazel.’
Walker cleared his throat. ‘I was given to understand that Lady Hazel and Miss Dorset would be sharing.’
Lady Beardsley waved a hand. ‘Quite unsuitable. Find somewhere else for Miss Dorset. She will not mind if it’s tucked away in the attics.’
‘Mama!’ Hazel cried, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
‘Of course, madam,’ Walker replied with only the slightest hint of asperity. His austere attitude softened as he fixed his gaze upon Farrah. ‘Come with me, miss, if you would be so kind. I am sure we can make you comfortable.’
‘Call for me when you are ready to go down, dearest,’ Hazel said, anxiously clutching Farrah’s arm.
‘You will come down with me, Hazel,’ Lady Beardsley said imperiously. ‘I am sure that Miss Dorset is quite capable of finding her own way.’
Farrah smiled her reassurance at Hazel, who looked mortified, and followed Walker along the corridor and around a sharp corner into a different wing of the abbey.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ she felt compelled to say, even though it wasn’t her place to apologise for the rudeness of the countess.
‘Think nothing of it, miss. It is I who should apologise to you. All the principal guest rooms are now occupied.’
‘Yes, I expect they are. It is insufferably impolite of Lady Beardsley to make difficulties.’
‘We are accustomed to it.’
Farrah thought of the duchess, who appeared to take delight in throwing her weight around, and imagined that he very likely was. Her hopes of finding an easy-going duke who was not above his company had never been high. Having met his lady mother, they were now non-existent.
‘Here.’ Walker opened a door and stepped back to allow Farrah to pass through it ahead of him. ‘We always keep a few extra chambers prepared to be on the safe side. It’s not very large, I’m afraid, but I hope you will find it comfortable. It will certainly be a great deal quieter than the main part of the abbey.’
Farrah was delighted with the light floral hangings, the room’s compact nature and its exclusive view over cloisters surrounding a courtyard and a wilderness beyond. ‘I think it will serve me very well, Mr Walker. Thank you very much.’
‘I am gratified to hear it, and I will arrange for your bags to be delivered immediately. Did you bring a maid?’
‘Me?’ She laughed. ‘Goodness, no. I am well able to look after myself. If someone could bring me some hot water, that is all I shall need. I have no intention of making more work for you when you must already be stretched.’
Walker inclined his head as he withdrew. ‘Would that all our guests were so thoughtful,’ he said.
Left alone, Farrah threw off her bonnet and outdoor garments and then sat down at the window seat, drinking in the view. There was nothing formal about the gardens and meadows at the back of the house, and she much preferred their natural state. She loved the idea of the cloisters and imagined monks clustered in them, plotting against something or other, as religious orders appeared to have done throughout time.
She could see water sparkling in the distance, probably a lake of some sort, and she longed to explore. The thought of sitting for an hour in a drawing room where the conversation would be dominated by the duchess and countess held little appeal, and Farrah decided not to put herself through it. No one would miss her.
She grinned at the view, other ideas forming inside her head.
A pretty little maid tapped at the door and entered with a ewer of hot water, closely followed by a footman carrying her luggage. She thanked them both.
‘That is very thoughtful,’ Farrah replied, ‘but don’t you already have enough to do, what with the house being so crowded?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, miss. The duke has made sure there’s enough of us below stairs to deal with everyone’s needs. Besides, waiting on you will make a pleasant change from polishing and sweeping.’
‘I dare say that it will. Have you worked here for long?’
‘Ever since the duke returned from India and put the place back into proper order. It was in danger of crumbling to the ground before that.’
‘Is the duke a good master?’ Farrah asked, watching Susan as she efficiently unpacked Farrah’s clothing, shook it out and hung it in the closet.
Susan hesitated. ‘Us housemaids don’t have any contact with the master, but we’re all very grateful for our positions.’
Which told Farrah very little about the man whom Hazel was expected to marry. Either Susan’s caution arose from the fact that she had daily dealings with the duchess, or she was worried about speaking out of turn for fear of losing the position she so valued.
Farrah made use of the hot water that Susan had delivered and said she wouldn’t change out of her travelling gown quite yet.
‘Are you going down in that?’ Susan asked, sounding a little alarmed.
‘Don’t worry, Susan, I shall not disgrace you.’ She smiled at the girl. ‘Is there a discreet way to leave the house? I have a mind to explore that wilderness.’
Susan’s mouth dropped open. ‘You want to go outside in this weather? It’s blowing a gale and there’s more rain in the offing.’
‘Just for a short while. I have been confined to a carriage for three entire days.’ And the endless monologues of Lady Beardsley. ‘I feel a pressing need to stretch my legs and clear my head. I shall not mind the wind.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
Susan gave Farrah directions on how best to escape the house without being seen by the ladies in the drawing room. Farrah thanked her and then dismissed the girl, assuring her that she would ring upon her return and accept Susan’s help to change for dinner. Thus pacified, the girl bobbed a curtsey and scurried off, no doubt ready to spread tales below stairs about the quirks of the lady she had been assigned to wait upon who had the oddest penchant for fresh air. Only imagine!
Farrah lost no time in wrapping herself in a warm cloak and leaving her room, trusting to luck that she would be able to find it again in this rabbit warren. She slipped down the back staircase that led to another wing of the old abbey and found the door that Susan had directed her to. A strong wind peppered her face and blew her hood off before she had progressed ten yards. She laughed and threw her head back, feeling alive for the first time since being persuaded to accompany Hazel on an excursion that she had no expectations of enjoying.
‘What do I care?’ she asked the wind, watching dark clouds scudding across the sky and breathing the clean country air into lungs that had been starved of fresh oxygen for too long.
A gust of wind caught her hair, sending pins scattering and the hair in question flying about her face in a hopeless tangle. Susan would have her work cut out restoring order to it, but Farrah couldn’t worry about that now. She fully intended to walk as far as the lake. She was inordinately fond of lakes, streams and rivers but had a healthy fear of the open sea.
A large dog bounded up to her, appearing from nowhere and taking her by surprise. But his tail was wagging and she sensed that he was a friendly creature.
‘Hello,’ she said, patting his scruffy head and giving him a good scratch behind the ears. ‘Who are you and where did you come from?’
The dog wagged its tail harder and then fell into step beside her. Farrah assumed that he lived in the stables but realised her error when she heard footsteps on the gravel path immediately behind her. She turned, annoyed to have her solitude interrupted, only for her breath to catch in her throat when her gaze fell upon one of the most prepossessing gentlemen she had ever encountered. Tall, with broad shoulders and a brisk step aided by long legs encased in tight buckskin, he wore no hat or coat. Thick dark hair blew across brown eyes that assessed her with unsettling intelligence. The dog saw him and bounded up to him, barking.
‘He seems harmless enough,’ Farrah said, breaking a dozen rules by addressing the man before they had been introduced. But she simply didn’t care. This was her solitary ramble and he was intruding upon it. She would conduct herself as she saw fit. If he didn’t care for her society, it was for him to excuse himself and take another path.
‘An escapee?’
‘To whom do you refer? Me or the dog?’
The man fell into step beside her and she became acutely conscious of his imposing masculinity. It was most peculiar. She wasn’t easily impressed and had never before experienced the warm, anticipatory glow that suffused her person as his gaze lingered upon her face. His expression displayed a mixture of amusement and surprise at the acerbic nature of her response.
‘May I know your name?’ he asked.
‘You may not,’ she replied. ‘There will be enough of that nonsense later. If you insist upon foisting yourself upon me then let’s pretend to be people whom we are not.’
‘With the greatest of pleasure.’ He took her elbow to guide her around a muddy puddle and released it again immediately. She appreciated the gentlemanly gesture and nodded her thanks, despite the fact that she was perfectly capable of avoiding the mud without his help. ‘Are you heading in a particular direction?’
‘I was hoping to find the lake. I could see it from my chamber window and felt the need to observe it at closer quarters.’
He looked surprised. ‘You can?’
‘Certainly I can. It’s not as if I’m blind. I believe that is my window.’ She pointed to the one in question that looked directly over the cloisters she had yet to visit.
‘I didn’t know that guests were being housed in that wing,’ he said vaguely.
‘Is there any reason why you should? I was a last minute addition to the guest list,’ she added, continuing without pause and giving him no time to respond, ‘which has obviously put everyone to no end of trouble.’
‘Are you looking forward to your stay?’
Farrah chuckled. ‘If you expect a diplomatic answer then I fear you are about to be shocked. Would you like to withdraw the question?’
‘Absolutely not.’ He threw his head back and closed his eyes. ‘I cannot recall the last occasion upon which a person spoke to me without caring whether or not they gave offence.’
‘Then I feel very sorry for you and will be happy to redress the balance. I cannot abide flummery.’
He bowed his head. ‘Then we are in accord in that respect.’
‘In answer to your question, I am not looking forward to my stay in the least. The duchess doesn’t want me here, she has already made that abundantly clear, although I am at a loss to know why. Her precious son has nothing to fear on my account.’ Farrah slapped a hand across her mouth. ‘Sorry. I expect he’s a close friend of yours. Indeed, he must be, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I am sure he is very obliging, and I know nothing to his detriment. There, is my lapse forgiven?’
He smiled at her. ‘What lapse?’
‘I feel rather sorry for the poor fellow—the duke, that is. I have been in a carriage these past three days listening to nothing but a constant stream of instructions being issued to my friend about the exact way in which to make a favourable first impression upon his grace. Lady Beardsley will be mortified if the daughter of her supposed friend Lady Kirkham manages to entice the duke.’ Farrah threw back her head and blew air through her lips. ‘Really, it’s a wonder the man doesn’t turn tail and run back to India if he has to spend all his time evading a mother so determined to marry him off. In his place, that’s exactly what I would do.’
Her unnamed
companion smiled. ‘Perhaps he will decide to do just that.’
‘It seems rather unfair that he should not be permitted to make his own choice of a wife without outside interference, but there you have it.’
‘Perhaps he will do that too.’
‘If he has an ounce of pride then he will not allow his dragon of a mother to make the choice for him. I should lose all respect for him if he did. Not that I have a great deal of it as things stand, although I’m sure he will not care what I think of him.’
‘Do you always pre-judge people before meeting them?’
Farrah lifted a shoulder. ‘You are right to scold me for making unfounded comments about your friend. I should not have done that—but then you did instigate this conversation and I warned you that I tend to speak my mind.’
‘A very refreshing trait.’
Farrah rolled her eyes. ‘And one that gets me into all sorts of trouble. You can have no possible idea.’
‘Oh, I rather think that I can.’
His smile altered the entire tenor of his face, shaking off the lines of responsibility deeply etched into his features and making him appear even more impossibly handsome. He probably wished he had not stepped outside to find himself speaking with someone who didn’t feel the least bit overjoyed to be at Wentworth Abbey. Even so, he showed no immediate desire to strike off in another direction.
‘Shadow!’ The man shouted sharply to the dog, preventing him from digging a hole in a nearby ditch that appeared to conceal something very appetising from a canine perspective. The dog abandoned its excavations and dutifully trotted back to them, his snout covered in wet mud.
‘You know the dog?’
‘I have been here before.’
‘Evidently.’ They turned a corner and Farrah gasped at the wide expanse of lake that opened up in front of them, its surface rippled by the wind. ‘It’s magnificent,’ she breathed. ‘I would love to see it in the spring and summer.’
‘You are fond of water?’
‘I am fond of lakes and rivers.’
Never Dare a Duke Page 3