A Heart's Treasure (11 page)

“Comfortable?” Xavier asked with a straight face.

“No,” Kenneth answered dryly. “But all I ask is we keep forward of that carriage. You know the ladies would not spare me.”

“True. Then, lad, put your heels to your steed, if you don’t think it will overly confuse the poor creature, and we will ride ahead a bit.”

They complained for a while about the noonday heat. They speculated on what Kenneth’s estate in Cumberland would be like this time of year, and they tried to recall if they knew of any posting houses on the road they presently traveled. At precisely forty-two minutes later, Kenneth reined to a halt, and remounted properly.

They rode on, discussing the fact they only expected to travel half the distance to Coventry this afternoon, and that only if the quality of the roads remained such that negotiating them was not especially difficult. They would need to find a place for the night in the next two or three hours.

They dismounted again to stretch their legs in Cottenham, and to supply Haddy with the ready with which to negotiate a fair price for a new team of horses. Waiting for the dickering to be done, and the new horses harnessed, they exchanged desultory comments with the ladies, who were also taking the opportunity to stretch their legs.

“I’m grateful Haddy has such a well-sprung carriage,” Genevieve sighed, “but all the same I grow weary of sitting in it.”

Kenneth made no comment about discomfort, but his gaze said he could have made a greater claim of discomfort.

“It’s not much longer until we put up for the night,” Xavier assured Genevieve, even as he allowed himself to take in her appearance. She was obviously too warm. Her face was flushed. There was a bit of hair that had escaped its ribbon sticking up on the top of her head. Her gown had long ago gone limp, clinging in places she probably didn’t realize it was clinging, and her gloves were missing entirely. None of the ladies had bothered with a bonnet, and a quick glimpse when she’d stepped down from the carriage had made Xavier think that although Genevieve wore her slippers, she might not be wearing her stockings. Her lips were reddened as though she’d been wetting them all day. In short, she looked an absolute ragamuffin, a sight that made him smile secretly even as it filled him with a strange warm glow.

He could not help himself; he reached out and smoothed down the stray hair at the top of her head.

“Oh dear,” she murmured as soon as she realized what he was doing. “I must look a fright.”

“Not at all,” he said. If anything, she looked entirely kissable.

That thought brought him up short, and his hand fell away as though leaden.

“The horses are hitched,” Haddy cried.

Xavier turned gratefully at the interruption, abandoning his manners by not handing the ladies up into the carriage. Avoidance was the key, even if it meant occasionally appearing thoughtless.
Let someone else be the mindful gentleman this time.

Kenneth chose to ride beside him again, though now a quiet period fell between them. Kenneth appeared lost to thoughts that might have had a lot to do with the great discomfort of wearing a jacket in the hot afternoon sun, or perhaps some weightier matter.

Kenneth at length broke the silence, recalling last night’s stay in Wycombe. “That was quite a tale you told,” he said, nodding at Xavier. “About your eye.”

Xavier raised a handkerchief to his forehead, blotting at the moisture there. At least he hadn’t felt constrained to wear his hat, having left it in the second carriage with all the luggage. “Tale? Do you say you think my seafaring tale was untrue?”

“It was well told,” Kenneth said with a tilted smile. Then he shifted in the saddle, half twisting in Xavier’s direction. “But, I say, I have been wondering, I don’t think I’ve ever heard how you really lost that eye—”

“It was an accident,” Xavier stated flatly.

“Yes, of course. But—” Kenneth hesitated, then charged on. “But…what manner of accident?”

“A painful one.”

“Quite. But, Warfield, what
happened?”

Xavier sighed, and lowered his chin to his chest. A few beats later, he lifted his head and gave it a quick, clearing shake, and took one hand from the reins to emphasize various points as he spoke. “My parents were hosting a party. I was only seven, as you may recall, and therefore most unwelcome at the event. I sneaked down from the nursery on the darkened stairs and hid in the shadows, watching the dancing and the partygoers from behind the rails. A military man, a sergeant I believe, was asked to demonstrate his prowess with his sword, and I’m afraid he made a thrust directly at me. I must say, he was most upset, and he did apologize quite prettily.”

Kenneth blinked, first stricken, then confused, until suddenly he cried, “You’re gammoning me.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

“Could be.”

Kenneth stared at him a moment longer, but Xavier only stared back benignly, until Kenneth’s loose hands on the reins caused his horse to fall behind.

“Now I really wish to know. I can’t believe I don’t know,” Kenneth muttered, perhaps loud enough to be heard by the forward rider.

As the sun sat low on the horizon, Haddy called out that Banbury was just ahead, and they’d be finding rooms for the night there, to everyone’s relief.

* * *

The first inn they came to had no rooms for the night, but the innkeeper recommended his sister inn, which was only a mile further. “Not the first ye see, but the second, t’one with far newer chimneys.” They found the place after only twenty minutes, although Kenneth announced he couldn’t see the chimneys looked any the better than those of the inn they’d bypassed, and grumbled that he thought the rest of it showed signs of better days.

“No grates will be lit today, so we needn’t fear smoking chimneys, anyway,” Laura insisted, speaking rather loudly and firmly out the carriage window, letting the gentlemen know their sisters were beyond weary with traveling today.

Haddy bartered with the innkeeper, but a mutually satisfactory cost was settled upon quickly enough, and the man agreed to supply three bottles of wine with the group’s supper.

Genevieve followed Laura’s eyes, which noted that her brother had pulled forth his purse. As Kenneth evaluated the funds remaining to him and pursed his mouth, Laura frowned in sympathy.

Genevieve turned her eyes away and pretended not to have seen the man’s clear concern. Dear Kenneth. It wasn’t his fault he’d too little monies to match his friends, not with Sir Roger ever controlling his purse strings so tightly. As to that, what had Sir Roger made of his childrens’ sudden journey toward Brockmore? Kenneth seemed forever on the verge of being cut off entirely, and it was easy to believe a pleasure trip such as this would not sit well with such a parent—especially if permission hadn’t even been sought. Genevieve bit her lip, and hoped for both sister and brother’s sake that this little pleasure trip wouldn’t widen the gap between father and son.

Genevieve’s concern shifted to amusement, however, when she saw Michael descend from the second carriage. All of his clothing was coated with dust, and his face was streaked with dirt and perspiration.

“I shan’t be second man tomorrow,” he declared. He gave Haddy a quick glare. “‘No grooms,’ he says. Well then,
he
can be the one to chew the road dust.”

“You’d not have to eat so much earth if you didn’t drive so close on my wheels,” Haddy pointed out.

“I wouldn’t drive close on your wheels if you ever let out your strings. Devil take it, man, we’ve had nothing but fine roads! You ought put them to use.”

Haddy replied, “We’re not on a short London jaunt here, Yardley. We’re covering distance. Got to spare the horses.”

The debate might have gone on, except the ostlers moved to take care of the horses and the carriages. The ladies took advantage of the pause in the debate to declare they wished to sit down to a meal as soon as they’d had the chance to freshen up.

“No one requires a freshening more than myself,” Michael said as he futilely tried to brush some of the dust from his sleeves.

“Trays in our rooms?” Laura suggested.

“No, we’ve hired a sitting room. Let us eat as a group. Then Kenneth can produce another of his Little Riddles for our edification,” Michael said, still dusting his coat with little apparent result. “It has been a dull day—”

“Oh, surely not while we were finding the card among the apple trees,” Genevieve protested.

“Granted,” Michael said, though his tone implied he’d his own opinion as to the matter. “As I was saying, I see no reason to sit alone in our rooms when we can enjoy an evening together. Whist, too, perhaps?”

Everyon
e agreed. Even Xavier nodded, as he considered ways of making sure he sat beside anyone other than Lady Genevieve.

Chapter 7

Alas, all the castles I have, are built with air, thou know’st.

—Ben Jonson,

Eastward Ho

“No!” Haddy winced, putting one hand to his forehead in disgust. “Whyever would you play
that
card? Ought to have played that one,” he said, pointing at Michael’s hand.

“You may now stop looking over my shoulder,” Michael said dryly, turning so his cards were out of Haddy’s view. “You play whist far more poorly than I do. If you doubt this, you have only to look to the fact you’re no longer playing, and I am. Your advice is not only unwanted but incorrect.” Four of the party of eight were already done with their play.

“I ran out of coinage, that’s why I’m no longer playing,” Haddy replied.

“And could not conspire to find more? I think not. I think you’d grown tired of losing your blunt.”

Haddy gave in with a grin. “It’s more fun to watch you squirm than to play myself.”

“I never squirm.” Michael hesitated, then inclined his head. “Although I must admit Genevieve was fleecing me royally for a while there. You’ll note I have recovered nicely. In fact, I believe I may beat her on points at the end of this hand. Summer, I do hope you are paying attention to the play,” he warned his partner.

“I’m trying,” she replied with a little frown of concentration. She selected a card and played it on top of the others before her on the table.

Michael made a disappointed noise and gave her a level look, even as the non-players gave forth groans and murmurs that proved the card played had been an unfortunate choice. “Really, Summer,” Michael scolded. “You obviously didn’t think that through.”

“You know I have no card sense,” she said, biting her lower lip as she lowered her eyes to the tabletop.

“Truth,” Michael grumbled. The group went silent, and Michael looked up to catch the dark look with which his sister skewed him. His eyes darted around as he seemed to review the last minute, and he sat up straighter. “Er. That is, makes no never mind. Just for sport,” he amended as the last round of cards played out.

Summer’s eyes came up, plainly relieved by the brevity of his censure.

Michael cast her a quick smile, and leaned back in his chair to pull his purse from his pocket, and the gentle hubbub of conversation resumed.

Haddy fished in his own pocket, then leaned forward, paying his sister’s debt for her. He exchanged bank notes for coins, his lips silently moving even as he proved Michael’s point that he could have made change had he cared to bother.

Genevieve scooped up the pile made up only of coins, measuring their weight. “Whist was an excellent idea,” she pronounced.

“I quite agree,” said her partner, Kenneth, pocketing the remaining stack with its pound note held under some small coins. Genevieve grinned at him, pleased his purse had been supplemented.

“How transported with joy I am to have entertained you,” Michael said, his sour tone probably more pretense than reality.

“Are we for bed then?” Laura asked, standing and stretching, careless of the inelegance of it.

“It’s early yet,” Michael protested. “Does anyone care for another game of chance?”

“Let us have one of Kenneth’s Little Riddles,” Xavier said, leaning back in the settee he’d drawn near the table.

Genevieve tilted her chin toward Xavier, surprised he’d chosen to promote the riddles. He’d not wanted to earn the kiss he’d given her yesterday… Her eyes slid to Summer, who was smilingly endorsing Xavier’s idea, then back to Xavier, who smiled in return. There was no denying he looked well, dressed all in evening black, down to his waistcoat, only his white cravat interrupting the severe but refined look. Did Summer also find his apparel well chosen? Certainly the girl had no care about his eye patch, as familiar with it as all of them—a simple fact that surely added to any attraction he might be feeling toward the beauty…

Kenneth read, “In the fifteenth century, fourteen of
these
were sent to the Duke of Bedford while he was in France. What were sent?”

“Wives?” Laura asked.

“We speak of the Duke of Bedford, Laura, not some Turkish agha or such.” Kenneth laughed.

“Well, you never know. Perhaps some agha or sheik sent them to the Duke of Bedford.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“What could it be?” Summer asked, her forefinger touching her chin. “Cats, perhaps? Some people are so very fond of their cats. No, better yet, his dogs.”

“Oh, I see,” Haddy said, face brightening. “Whatever was sent, it wasn’t necessarily a gift to him? But rather something the duke ordered brought to him?”

“Yes, the latter,” Kenneth said to Haddy, and to Summer, “I can see an Englishman wanting his hounds with him, but no, it was not his dogs.”

“Horses?”

“Sons?”

“Carriages?” The guesses came from around the room, at each of which Kenneth shook his head.

“Think, gentlepeople. Where are we?”

 “Oxfordshire.”

Kenneth rolled his eyes.

“Banbury!” Michael and Summer cried together, and she laughed.

Genevieve found herself smiling at the two, perhaps a bit too widely, silently urging such spontaneous moments to make the pair’s bond grow deeper. She sneaked a look at Xavier, yet gazing upon Summer with a small smile playing about his mouth, and narrowed her eyes over her own strained smile.