Lady Caraway's Cloak, page 11
This seemed to greatly cheer his family—though why his sisters should care he frankly could not conceive—and led him to be invited to a bevy of ballrooms he would rather have done without. So much for that rare bit of peace in his home! Now, of course, he was dragged from soirée to soirée, from excursion to excursion until he thought he might very well make his escape back across the seas, if not to America, then to the shores of France at the very least.
Only the anticipation of one day spotting Julia, languishing delicately like a wallflower against one of the silk-lined trellises, made him soldier on bravely. Not that she wanted to languish, despite all her claims, but he had promised to be foremost in his attentions to her and so he would be, if only she would make her town appearance!
This matter, unknown to him, had now reached a stumbling block. The dowager had scathingly denounced Redmond for not resupplying Caraway with smelling salts, which was unfair, for the merchant had sent up a supply not two days ago, but the countess’s use of the substance had increased dramatically over the days following the earl’s fateful return; and she had closeted herself in her room with a hot brick upon her bed and announced that Julia was to remain to minister to her.
Miss Waring, after her tears in the conservatory, had dutifully dried her eyes and ordered her trunks to be unpacked, for she was not so dreadful a child as to disobey her parent and possibly cause more spasms to ensue.
No amount of persuasion by Serena could shake her, for she was feeling guilty at having been so selfish. If her mama did not want her to have her Season, she would remain at Caraway, though she did rather wistfully comment that perhaps a small excursion could be arranged. Serena did not know who she wanted to shake more—Julia, for being so damnably compliant, or her mama for being so unscrupulously manipulative. In the event, after much contemplation, she decided that the earl’s cunning scheme, as he cheerfully put it, might just serve.
To wit, the earl suggested that if he remained at Caraway, poor Miss Waring would be stuck at Caraway too. If, however, he took up residence in London, it followed as the night the day that Julia would be sent on her Season after all.
“But what of Captain McNichols?” Serena objected very reasonably. “He cannot well be denied our door, yet I am perfectly certain the dowager would have it so.”
“Aha! But here is the beauty of my little contrivance,” the earl had said, grinning as he skinned the fish—no longer wriggling—with masterful disregard for his attire. “Adam will be courting you, for it is obvious that that is what your sister-in-law has in mind.”
“But why? I cannot conceive ...”
The earl could, but he held his peace. It was becoming perfectly clear to him that the entire estate of Caraway had been run virtually single-handedly by Serena. It was impossible to have spent a week working on the account books, talking to the tenants, and generally observing what herbs had been planted and where without seeing Serena’s touch.
How it came to be that the bailiff had practically never uttered her name still was a puzzle but one he was perfectly confident of solving. The dowager, however, must have been well aware of Serena’s contribution and threatened by it. She probably ascribed her own lukewarm reception by the villagers as Serena’s doing. To boot, she wanted Serena off Caraway and marriage was the best way of achieving this.
She must have quite despaired every time Serena had refused a suitor. His conjecture happened to be perfectly true, for Spencer, Serena’s brother, had long suffered the countess’s complaints in this regard. Fortunately, though he could not understand Serena’s stubbornness himself, he had always defended her choices.
Now, Adam, handsome—the earl smiled—conceited little sprig!—and available, was the dowager’s last straw, so to speak. She was furious that her quick attempt to seal a proposal had gone awry, but she still cherished hopes. It was but to nurture these hopes, and Adam’s welcome would be confirmed.
“You mean,” said Serena, staring, “that I am to encourage Captain McNichols’s attentions?”
“Very likely I will slay him if you ever do, but you can pretend, my dear Serena, you can pretend.”
Serena ignored the latter part of this utterance and regarded him keenly. “Why would you slay him?”
But Robin only raised his eyebrows and smiled knowingly, and a wave of contentment swept over Serena from the tips of her boots to the top of her short, cropped hair.
“Why would Captain McNichols consent to such a scheme? It is using him shamefully, is it not?”
“Not when he can be close to Julia. You surely cannot have missed his preference in that direction.”
“It is calf love. He is young yet.”
“Not so young as he doesn’t know his mind—or maiden!”
“I collect he is not entirely ... green?”
The earl’s eyes lit up appreciatively. He reflected for a moment on the Fansham woman and several other similar such, and shook his head. “Not green, precisely, no. But surely, Lady Serena, you are treading on thin ice here? As head of the family I really must warn you that you should have no knowledge of such matters.”
“Alas, I am beyond redemption! Do not, I pray you, try to reform me.”
Robin privately thought it would be a great shame if anyone did, for he much approved of Serena’s forthrightness. Certainly it made a difference from every silly young maiden he had encountered, who felt it necessary to swoon if ever he overstepped the invisible mark, or to cackle coyly, which he abhorred all the more.
“Do you think he means marriage?”
“I do not think he knows what he means yet, but certainly he deserves the chance to explore the possibility. I do not, by my observations, believe Miss Waring is entirely averse to the notion.”
“Good Lord, no! I think it has been madness and moonshine with her from the first moment that she saw him. But I am not certain that it is not just a function of her first encounter with a personable gentleman.”
“Second.”
“Beg pardon?” Serena looked startled.
“I believe she first encountered me, strictly speaking.”
Serena laughed. “I said personable, sir.”
“You are a baggage!”
“So I have been told, I assure you a dozen times or more. It is a trial.”
“Allow me to pity you. Here, have a piece of your fish. It is badly scorched, but tasty.”
“We shall have the gamekeeper descend on us soon.”
“We shall not, for I paid him off handsomely.”
“What?” Serena looked both amused and shocked, if such a combination can be imagined.
Robin smiled smugly. “He is a very good fellow. Made his acquaintance about three hours ago. As soon as he mentioned that he had seen you heading for the pond, I took immediate precautions. He appeared gratified.”
“You shouldn’t have to bribe your own staff! Halswell is a very good man!”
“Doubtless. But he will be better yet with a half sovereign in his pocket and I really, really wanted to speak with you. Alone.”
Serena wanted to retort that he had had an entire week and not availed himself much of that opportunity, but held her peace. It would not do to look as though she were dangling after him, which decidedly she was not.
The fish was good, causing her to comment idly that he had been right—bass was better than trout, under the right conditions. It was lucky that some had been left after the restocking. If poachers were dealt with firmly, the pond should regenerate, quite apart from the northern boundary stock. Robin nodded, but shot her a most piercing glance that would have caused her to startle had she but seen it. Fortunately, she was too concerned with licking her lips to realize she had committed a serious strategical error.
None but Addington and the earl knew that bass was being cultivated, just as none but he and the bailiff had known about the stocking of the northern boundary. There was some link between Serena and the mysterious Addington, and he hoped to goodness it was not a romantic one! His fingers clenched at the very thought. Surprising that he, who had been perfectly happy in his bachelor ways, who had defied any woman to ever really change that sentiment, found himself regarding Serena, perfectly naturally, as part of his future. He wondered what she would say about Robin Red-Ribbon and did her the justice of thinking she would approve. Well, time enough there would be for private confessions, if only he could convince her of his plan!
It was a very cunning plan, actually, for in Serena feigning an interest in Adam, and he feigning an interest in Julia—for such was quite necessary for the dowager’s peace of mind—he had an excellent excuse to haunt Lady Serena’s establishment and get to know her more intimately than if he had been merely the titular head of family at Caraway.
The gossips could wag all that they liked, but if they thought his interest was in Julia, they would leave Serena in peace. He wanted that peace for her, most fiercely. And he wanted more than that, but he was prepared to step slowly. Marriage was not a step that he had contemplated overmuch, and it was not one he was prepared to leap into unprepared. Serena was utterly different from the females he was accustomed to. He wanted the chance to understand both how, and why.
“It all seems so ... underhanded.”
“You value honesty so much?”
Serena nodded, though she could not help thinking of her own tangle of lies. She wished again she had told the earl sooner. It seemed worse, now, that she hadn’t.
“Even a white lie like this, that can harm nobody? Without it, Julia shall remain here and I shall have no excuse at all to shirk my responsibilities at Caraway. People will think it very odd in me. They won’t, if I am known to be dangling after pretty Miss Waring.”
“You could dangle after me.” Serena was half laughing as she said it, but could have bit her tongue for making such a ridiculous—not to mention entirely immodest—suggestion.
Robin grinned, his white teeth wholly too sparkling for Lady Serena’s tranquility of mind. Really, the man had no business to be so handsome. It was bad enough that he was educated, liberal, and endowed with an acuteness of mind that Serena found both tantalizing and discomforting. If it were not for the chasm that lay between them—namely, one huge lie—Serena might even have felt moved to flirt. Well, just a little. It was, after all, every young lady’s right and Serena had been most circumspect in the past.
She did not permit herself to think beyond light flirtation, for naturally the man was—well, if not a rake precisely, then very close. She could tell by that wicked smile and that illuminating twinkle that exuded more than just self-confidence ... it was treacherously hypnotizing—and she was perfectly certain he knew it. Shameless!
Was the remark worthy of the kiss he had just planted on his fingertips then gently wiped across her lips, from left to right, then back again? Serena could hardly analyze this problem as she strove not to do something entirely irrational like fling herself into his arms or swoon like the tiresome dowager. Whilst she was battling with the annoying beating of her heart that suddenly seemed perfectly deafening in the smoky stillness, he answered her question quietly, but with something subtle between them that compounded Serena’s confusion.
“Dangling after you—though undoubtedly perfectly delightful”—here the smile widened quite unbearably—“would nonetheless be too close to home. I might get burnt, like this poor fish here.”
He did not say he had already been burned, but his look might just as well have. Serena felt that strange tightening sensation in her lungs, almost as though she could not breathe. He allowed the intensity of the moment just a second to linger before turning to more deflating reasons, like the dowager not countenancing such a courtship and returning to London herself.
“For I think,” said the earl, “that we are all unanimous in our dislike of such a course!”
Serena smiled her agreement, but frowned a little at his reasoning.
“She would not do that—return to London, I mean, for she abhors unnecessary expense and though my establishment is genteel, it does not have all the comforts of the dower house, let alone Castle Caraway. She would have to reside with Lady Bowbeck, her bosom friend, though in truth they are like poisonous asps and I doubt the one would do the other any genuine good turn.”
“A hotel?”
“Only the finest and that would again put her purse strings to unnecessary exertion. No, she would more likely insist Julia return to Caraway.”
“Impossible for Adam, who is becoming quite annoying in his conversation. Everything is ‘Miss Waring’ this and ‘Do you think Miss Waring’ that until I cannot help retorting that he should ask her himself!”
“And he cannot do that at Caraway.”
“Not with the dowager glaring at him and very likely showing him to the door!”
“Then London it shall be, sir. Do not frighten Julia in your attentions.”
“Frighten her? Do I frighten you?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. He did frighten her, but not in the manner he was meaning. He frightened her because he challenged all her perceptions about herself, he awoke something within her that was dormant and that she had never expected—well, only in childish daydreams—to be revived. He frightened her because he disrupted the pleasant life she had mapped out for herself and left her craving for something a good deal more.
Something that was very likely impossible for a hundred good reasons, but something that had nevertheless shaken her inner being to the core. She did not think he could shake Julia in quite the same way, or frighten her for those reasons. His general manner, however—altogether too charming—might fluster her, or keep her tongue-tied.
Lord knew—she herself—calm, capable Serena—was flustered enough. She answered his question honestly, for he was cocking his head to one side rather quizzically. His question had not been rhetorical.
“Frighten me? Yes, a little.” She did not elaborate, but he nodded, satisfied.
“Good, for you frighten me, my little charmer, make of that what you will. As for Julia, I will be the very soul of circumspection. I can be, you know.”
Serena laughed. “Well, let the games begin! I only hope I do not lead poor Captain McNichols too merry a dance!”
“I hate to deflate your consequence, but I very much doubt he shall notice. Besides, I shall be forever at your elbow, dancing attendance at every soirée you should happen to dream up for the Season. An excuse to be close to Julia, you understand!”
Serena scolded herself for trembling at so lighthearted a promise. But no matter how much she scolded, she simply could not help herself. It was several moments that they gazed at each other, half with promise, half with unspoken understanding, and another half—yes, impossible in the mathematical sense but nonetheless true—held altogether by something else.
It was almost as if he had kissed her again, but this time with something more than just gloved fingers brushing over soft, altogether too yielding lips. This time, the gaze between them had been like a brand, and the strangest thing was neither the earl nor Serena had moved so much as a step.
Chapter Eleven
Whilst Serena was opening her residence, refurbishing the living rooms in the first style of elegance (though more tastefully than the dowager’s exertions and at half the expense thanks to the silk bazaars), the earl, putting up at Strawberry Hill, was engaged in exertions of his own.
Naturally, he was signed up at Watier’s and Boodles and permitted himself to become the nine days’ wonder—or one day’s as the case happened to be, for despite his simplicity of dress and extraordinary style of hair he was immediately recognized as a gentleman and therefore disappointingly unworthy of any further speculation. If there were some among the upper ten thousand who had heard rumors of a certain Robin Red-Ribbon, no one ever said, and certainly it was not reflected in any lack of civility or invitations that happened to flood onto the silver salvers at Strawberry Hill.
Captain McNichols, by extension, was just as popular. This, possibly, because he was not only likeable—not to mention impeccable—but could also spin a fascinating yarn whilst holding his wine with uncommon stoicism. Virtually no invitation that arrived included the one and excluded the other, a fact that both gentlemen considered gratifying and Mrs. McNichols considered a personal triumph.
Whilst Adam rigged himself out in the finest Weston had to offer, and visited with earnestness such legendaries as Lobb and Lobb for boots, Charting and Co. for canes, Willis and McNight for beavers, tricorns and other imperative headgear, Robin sought out, with firm determination, Mr. Gabriel Addington, late of Caraway.
He wrote several missives to Oxford, to Cambridge—for he was certain he must be the younger son of an impoverished lord, so classical was his education—and even more to employment agencies. If Addington had been seeking any work at all, he was bound to show up on these lists.
Once and for all, he was determined to discover the mystery surrounding this man—both his presence at Caraway and his sudden, unheralded departure. Though he had immediately formulated the intention of following this path, the matter now seemed of greater urgency. He was certain there was some mystery concerning the Honorable Lady Serena that needed to be unraveled. His instincts had always served him well in the past and he was perfectly certain they would do so now.
He just hoped that the disclosures he unraveled showed Serena up in the same honorable light as her title. He had misgivings, but these needed to be allayed before he could proceed any further with the romance he fully intended to wholeheartedly indulge. He grinned, a little, at this, then ordered his tiger—still a mischievous lad with the tartest tongue ever heard—to bring his carriage round. This the boy did, for he prided himself on his whip hand, if nothing else—and Robin continued with his thoughts as they headed toward Whitehall.
Why was he suspicious? What mysterious link was there between Addington and Serena? Chiefest among these links was the fact that Serena curiously seemed to know his mind on all issues relating to Caraway, from the simple matter of stocking fish, to his designs for a new schoolroom closer to the village. Only Addington had known of these plans, for he did not think Adam—or anyone else for that matter—would have the remotest interest.
