No one else appeared willing to cover the distance on foot and so, half an hour later, the girls donned bonnets and pelisses and set off on the path that a footman assured them would lead eventually to the shoot.
‘Just follow the sound of gunfire,’ he told them cheerfully. ‘But stay on the path and keep well to the left of the coverts.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Some of these gentlemen ain’t such good shots as they’d like to think. Between you and me, they couldn’t hit a barn door, much less a bird in flight.’
Good!
Farrah thanked him and assured him that they would remain vigilant. They linked arms and left the house at an easy pace.
‘This is it, I think,’ Farrah said, pointing to the start of a path that wound through woodland. She breathed in the fresh, powerfully evocative smell that the earth was giving off after the heavy rain. A thick bank of cloud had replaced the smaller tufts of the morning and a weak sun occasionally emerged from behind it, dappling the ground beneath the trees on either side of the path that was dotted with heather and the last of the wild azaleas.
‘I envy the duke all this,’ Farrah said, spreading her free arm wide to encompass the tranquil woodland, its absolute stillness interrupted only by the distant sound of guns. ‘But I suppose it comes at a high price.’
‘Quite so.’ Hazel nodded her agreement. ‘Only imagine having to leave England for ten years or more in search of one’s fortune. A duke should not have to lower himself.’
Farrah smiled. ‘I suppose he could blame his profligate ancestors for the necessity.’
‘Profligate?’ Hazel flexed a brow. ‘What do you know of their habits?’
Farrah laughed. ‘I have an image in my head of an arrogant duke assuming he was automatically entitled to the best of everything simply because of who he was. His widow certainly conveys that attitude. It must have come as a terrible shock to them both when the funds ran out and creditors began beating a path to their door. One cannot trade on one’s background indefinitely, duke or no.’
‘If that is what happened then it is to the current duke’s credit that he didn’t follow the parental example, I suppose, and did something constructive to improve his situation.’
‘Oh yes, no one can criticise his determination to keep the duchy profitable, although perhaps that wasn’t the only thing that persuaded him to leave these shores.’
Hazel glanced sideways at Farrah. ‘Whatever can you mean by that?’
‘His lady mother so likes to interfere. One imagines it was comparatively easy for her to manipulate and bully Brinley Wentworth as a boy. But the man he has grown into has integrity and will not, I suspect, be easily influenced by her opinions.’
‘Ah, I see what you mean. The duchess would have thrown wealthy young ladies in his path from the moment he finished his education, much as she is doing now.’
‘Precisely. I dare say his grace enjoyed his freedom in India and took the opportunity to sow his wild oats. Now he will be able to marry someone of Lady Melody’s ilk, although I do hope he has more sense than to choose her.’
‘You do not care for her society, dearest?’
‘Not in the least.’ Farrah shuddered. ‘She is very full of her own self-importance and cares for no one other than herself. A mirror image of the duchess, in other words. It’s little wonder that woman thinks so highly of her. She has better sense, of course, in favouring you, but since you are committed to Mr Anglesey, I’m afraid I hold you entirely to blame for leaving the field clear for Lady Melody.’
‘Farrah!’ Hazel laughed. ‘Don’t make me feel any guiltier than I already do.’
Farrah squeezed her arm. ‘Well, if the duke is silly enough to saddle himself with the woman, then he deserves everything he gets. However, we shall not spoil this lovely morning by dwelling upon Lady Melody’s shortcomings, or by thinking about the duke’s marital aspirations either. The poor man deserves to enjoy his morning’s sport, if that’s what this nonsense can be described as, without our meddling in his affairs.’
The girls continued to follow the path, skirting puddles and the worst of the mud. Farrah was resigned to the fact that her hem and petticoats would be sodden, but Hazel attempted to hold her skirts clear of the results of the rain, no doubt anticipating her precious time alone with Mr Anglesey and wanting to look her best. The exercise had brought colour to her cheeks and highlighted her vibrant beauty. Farrah wanted to tell her that Daniel Anglesey would be enchanted and that his attention would most definitely not be drawn to a muddy hem. But she remained silent on the point, aware that Hazel was the rarest of creatures; a truly beautiful female inside and out who was innately modest and honestly didn’t think there was anything special about her.
‘Did you see that!’
‘What, dearest?’ Hazel levelled her gaze on the trees to one side of them. ‘Why are you looking so concerned? I head a rustle but didn’t see anything. It was most likely just an animal perhaps, or a bird sensible enough to keep clear of the guns. Nothing to concern us.’
‘No, there was someone there; I am absolutely sure of it.’
Farrah had seen the same flash of blue as the glimpse that had disturbed her morning walk. It couldn’t be a coincidence, and she felt deeply unsettled, her pleasure in their leisurely stroll spoiled, much as her walk to the river had been earlier. Someone was following her, and she would dearly love to know why. She paused and peered into the treeline, shielding her eyes with her hand since the sun had chosen that moment to emerge from behind a cloud. Everything seemed normal, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the undergrowth to disturb the tranquillity. Even so, Farrah sensed that someone was there, in amongst the trees, watching them.
Watching her.
She shuddered, tightened her hold on Hazel’s arm and tried to shake off her discomfort, telling herself that her imagination had got the better of her. She had no enemies that she knew of, if one discounted the duchess, and there was no reason for anyone to care what she did.
‘Come along,’ she said to Hazel. ‘I think we are getting close to our destination. The other ladies are coming by a different route. One wide enough to accommodate their carriages and spare them from the indignity of muddy petticoats.’
Hazel laughed, and they talked of other things until they emerged in a clearing and paused to observe the scene, noses twitching as the smell of gunpowder assailed their nostrils. Beaters drove the birds from cover towards a line of standing guns. As they took to the wing a volley of shots rang out and several birds dropped to the ground. Farrah wanted to applaud those who had the good fortune to escape such a one-sided contest.
As the guns were lowered, the shoot captain gave a command and the gun dogs leapt forward, stubby tails wagging, to retrieve the birds that had fallen in thickets. Shadow, she noticed, was among their number. Lads ran forward to retrieve the game that had fallen in more accessible places whilst the gentlemen bragged and bickered amongst themselves about the number of birds they had shot.
‘Quite a bag,’ Hazel remarked.
Farrah nodded absently, trying not to be too obvious as she admired the duke’s imposing figure. He stood to one end of the line, smoke still coming from the barrel of his shotgun as he lowered it. He handed it back to the loader who stood directly behind him. As though sensing Farrah watching him, he turned in her direction, noticed her standing there and raised a hand in acknowledgement. She inclined her head in return, feeling self-conscious, which was a novelty for her. Since she barely paid lip service to society’s mores, it followed that she seldom felt disadvantaged by its demands. But at that moment, just for a fleeting second, she would have given a very great deal to…
To what precisely? Be cut from the same mould as Lady Melody or, God forbid, the duchess? The thought was sufficient to restore her to her senses and she was herself again. Unconventional, opinionated and ready to laugh at life’s absurdities. Those words described her character perfectly, and she was content with that situation.
> She glanced away from him and laughed aloud when she noticed liveried footmen setting up long trestle tables a safe distance away from the guns. They were covered with crisp white linen, with sparkling crystal glasses and fine china adding to the incongruous display.
‘If this is the duchess’s idea of a casual picnic,’ Farrah remarked, amusement in her tone, ‘I can’t wait to see how she treats a more formal occasion. Although, upon reflection, perhaps I would prefer to delay that pleasure indefinitely.’
The tables now groaned beneath platters of roasted meats, smoked fish, trays of pies, cold cuts and just about every delicacy imaginable.
‘Good morning, Miss Dorset, Lady Hazel.’
Farrah turned abruptly at the sound of the duke’s deep voice. She had been so absorbed with the preparations for what seemed like an al fresco banquet that she hadn’t heard him approach.
‘Your grace.’ Hazel recovered first and bobbed a curtsey.
‘A fine morning for a walk, ladies,’ the duke said.
‘We were the only ones who thought so,’ Farrah replied. ‘The others had more consideration for their petticoats.’ She glanced down at her muddy boots and equally muddy hem and gave a wry smile.
‘It somehow does not surprise me that you were not similarly concerned.’
‘I like fresh air,’ she replied with a brief shrug. ‘Oh, hello, Shadow,’ she added, when the duke’s dog came trotting up to her and pushed his muddy head beneath her hand.
‘He’s more of a hinderance than a help,’ the duke remarked, affection in his tone. ‘But he so enjoys being involved.’
‘Well, of course he does.’ She stroked his head, sending the dog into a state of near delirium. Hazel, who was frightened of dogs, took a step backwards. ‘Have you enjoyed your morning’s sport, your grace, if that is what it can be described as?’
‘Farrah!’ Hazel whispered, looking a little taken aback.
‘It’s perfectly all right, Lady Hazel,’ the duke assured her easily. ‘Miss Dorset has only been a guest in my house for one day, but I am already accustomed to her forthright mode of expression. Indeed, I find it rather refreshing.’
‘Gallantly put, your grace,’ Farrah replied with an arch smile, ‘but pray don’t be polite on my account. I am impossible to insult and fully aware of my many shortcomings.’
They were joined by others at that point, so the duke was saved from the trouble of formulating a diplomatic response.
‘I say!’ Hazel’s brother Robert bounded up to them, good-natured as always. ‘What a fine morning’s bag. The greatest possible fun. Sharp set now, though.’
‘I don’t think there’s much chance of you starving,’ Farrah responded, nodding towards the elaborate picnic.
‘Shall you sit, Miss Dorset?’ Robert placed a hand on her elbow. ‘Let me offer you my escort.’
Farrah noticed the duke in the periphery of her vision frowning at the gesture and wondered why Robert’s gentlemanly manners should bother him.
‘Not yet, thank you, Lord Beardsley. We will wait until the other ladies arrive.’
Farrah could see that she had lost Hazel’s attention. Not that she had commanded it since arriving at the shoot and her friend had caught sight of Mr Anglesey in his shooting jacket and tight-fitting inexpressibles. That gentleman had joined them the moment he saw Hazel and the two of them stood a little apart, talking to one another in low tones. Their solitary conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two open carriages conveying the rest of the ladies.
The gentlemen dutifully went to help them alight. Farrah watched in amusement when Lady Melody took the duke’s hand and then placed her own on his sleeve in a propriety manner the moment her feet touched the ground, preventing him from walking away. The duke was left with no alternative other than to escort her to the table. Lady Melody, resplendent in delicate cream muslin better suited to a drawing room than a muddy shoot, sent Farrah a triumphant look and then concentrated all her attention on the duke.
Mr Anglesey smiled at Hazel and left her side with obvious reluctance.
‘Lady Melody will freeze to death in that attire,’ Farrah remarked.
‘Shall we take some refreshments, dearest?’ Hazel suggested, her eyes sparkling as she watched Mr Anglesey walk away. ‘Everything seems to be quite informal.’
‘Tell that to Lady Melody,’ Farrah said, smiling at that lady’s increasingly desperate attempts to hold the duke’s attention.
The girls wandered towards the table, where footmen were helping the guests to load their plates. The duchess had seated herself with her inner circle of confidantes, including Lady Beardsley, and scowled at Farrah as she walked past.
‘I wish I knew what I had done to offend the old harridan,’ Farrah said with an exasperated sigh. ‘She does so enjoy scowling at me.’
‘You have obviously made a favourable impression upon the duke, which is most inconsiderate of you.’
‘Hardly. And even if I have, it was not my intention.’
‘Perhaps not, but she doesn’t know it. However, you are right to criticise her behaviour. She does not know you, but if she did she would not be able to help loving you.’
Farrah smiled, thinking it a waste of breath to tell Hazel that she was quite wrong.
They helped themselves to modest amounts of food and found two spare seats at one end of the table. Robert Beardsley grinned at them but seemed more interested in consuming the vast amount of food he had heaped onto his own plate than joining them, for which Farrah was grateful. She was already in hot water with the duchess. She didn’t want to make matters worse by giving the appearance of encouraging Robert’s attentions, thereby also displeasing his mother.
‘Have you had enough, dearest?’ Hazel asked. ‘It’s just that…’
‘That everyone is occupied with eating and drinking, your Mr Anglesey slipped away a few minutes ago and you are anxious not to keep him waiting.’
Hazel blushed becomingly. ‘Well, yes.’
Farrah smiled. ‘Then by all means.’
The ladies stood but in order to get away they were required to pass the part of the table where Lady Melody had pinioned the duke.
‘Ah, Miss Dorset.’ The duke smiled up at her. ‘Had enough of us already?’
‘Miss Dorset despises company and much prefers a solitary walk,’ Lady Melody remarked before Farrah could respond, sending a scathing look in the direction of her muddy hem. ‘In which case, pray don’t let us detain you.’
‘You surprise me, Lady Melody. I was not aware that you were a student of human nature.’
‘Your nature is an open book to me,’ the woman replied with a disdainful sneer.
‘Goodness.’ Farrah elevated one brow, fury radiating through her in response to the uncalled-for insult. Her capacity for turning the other cheek, always woefully inadequate, was on this occasion non-existent. ‘In that case I must be disappointingly shallow.’
Unfortunately, the altercation had drawn the attention of everyone at the table. Few had heard Lady Melody’s insult. Everyone heard Farrah’s response to it, which elicited a collective inhalation and a flurry of outraged expressions.
‘Come, Farrah.’ Hazel tugged on Farrah’s arm somewhat desperately, her voice sounding shrill as it cut through the deafening silence.
‘Pray, excuse us, your grace,’ Farrah said, turning away with flaming cheeks and head held high.
The duke stood and offered her an exaggerated and very elegant bow; a public show of support which Farrah appreciated.
‘What have I done to offend the wretched woman!’ Farrah seethed as she and Hazel walked away. The company watched them go and conversations gradually resumed. Conversations criticising Farrah, she didn’t doubt, sighing at the inevitability. ‘To be so insufferably rude. Really, if she wants to attract the duke, deliberately insulting one of his guests is hardly the right way to go about it.’
‘He made that evident by being so civil towards you. And look.’ Hazel glanced
over her shoulder. ‘He has now left her quite alone at the table. Excellent!’
‘I try to behave and not draw attention to myself, but I cannot, will not, withstand unjustified criticism from strangers without retaliating.’ Farrah squeezed Hazel’s hand. ‘It simply isn’t within my nature. I am sorry if I embarrassed you. That certainly was not my intention.’
‘I am not in the least embarrassed, I do assure you.’
‘Perhaps not. But the duchess and your mama now dislike me more than ever, and they are probably sympathising with Lady Melody whilst congratulating themselves upon being such good judges of character.’ Farrah took a deep breath. ‘However, we shall not worry about that now. You have a far more pleasant interlude to look forward to. And this, I believe,’ she added, summoning up a smile when they found their way to the log cabin, the assigned meeting place, ‘unless I miss my guess, is where you will find your heart’s desire.’ She patted Hazel’s back when she hesitated. ‘Off you go. I shall be outside if you have need of me.’ She grinned. ‘But I cannot begin to imagine why you should.’
Hazel returned Farrah’s smile and then rushed up to the door of the cabin, which opened before she reached it. Left alone, Farrah continued to stew over the episode with Lady Melody. It was so unfair! She hated losing her temper and vowed that she wouldn’t allow the woman to provoke her for a second time.
‘Ah, there you are.’
Farrah frowned as she turned in response to the sound of the one voice she most particularly did not wish to hear. Lady Melody stood barring her path, scowling as though she bore the entire world a grudge.
‘What do you want?’ Farrah asked ungraciously.
‘We need to clear the air.’
‘As far as I am aware, there is no air to be cleared,’ Farrah replied, walking away from the cabin for fear that the interfering female would realise that Hazel was missing and wonder what had become of her. ‘I met you for the first time yesterday and bear you no ill will. Yet you seem to have taken me in extreme dislike.’
‘Actually, I wanted to apologise.’ She hesitated and stared at the tips of her shoes. Shoes that were little more than flimsy slippers; totally inappropriate for the conditions. ‘What I said earlier. I cannot think what came over me.’
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