Amy Lake (9 page)

Dee was shaking his head at this point. “You poor fools,” was all he said.

Lord Ashdown was inclined to agree.

The young woman was Lady Susan Daubney, daughter of the Earl of Winton. She had never met the marquess, nor did she have any idea of the impending engagement. It was to be an arranged marriage, a type which had fallen out of fashion recently, but which was certainly not unknown. The arranging was usually done by one’s parents, of course, but in this case it had been Lord Ashdown’s sister.

The earl’s daughter was an acquaintance of Lady Edwina. Colin was to have met her at Evelyn’s birthday party and, providing that neither party took a disgust of the other, the marriage would be announced for next spring, in London.

Leaving the marquess to return to Scotland, as he had hoped, for a few more weeks of grouse hunting and peace.

He had anticipated no hitch to this plan. Edwina had assured him that the girl was pretty, healthy, and had all of her teeth. And it never crossed the mind of either that Lady Susan would object.

“Ah,” said the doctor. “Of course not.”

But everything had changed.

Colin knew he had only himself to blame, if blame there was, and the idea of becoming engaged to someone he’d never met now seemed like the worst of bad ideas. How could he have known that a woman like Fiona Marwick was waiting for him, in County Durham, of all places? If only he had been more patient—! He did not express these last sentiments to Dr. Fischer, of course, although Colin guessed that the man had some idea of what the marquess was thinking.

“Well,” said Dee, as he left. “I can fix a broken leg, but as to the rest of it—” He shrugged.

“Yes,” said the marquess. “I know.”

Since he could manage a Bath chair, and even crutches, Colin guessed that he could hire a carriage and leave Barley Mow tomorrow. And marry Lady Susan or, if she truly did not suit, some other female that Edwina managed to find.

But the Marquess of Carinbrooke had remained too long at Tern’s Rest. He no longer wished for just any bride.

Chapter 15: Eddie

Lady Edwina Ashdown paced softly back and forth in Fiona’s second spare bedroom, pausing occasionally to look out the window. The view of the North Sea below was spectacular. The occasional cry of a gull made a sharp counterpoint to the roar of the waves, the air was beyond fresh, and she thought that here, at least, one could sleep.

At least if one was not worried sick over a broken leg. Eddie had kept her reaction to
that
news from showing on her face, although she planned to have serious words with the doctor, later. How could he have left the family uninformed? Evelyn’s home was less than a day’s journey away, the sisters could have been there, at Colin’s bedside—

A broken leg. Gods. Her brother could have died. The thought was extraordinarily painful, and she felt the weight of an old responsibility settle back on her shoulders. Colin was the marquess, but she had taken care of him, and Eleanor, from the time she was eight or nine. Their parents were not unkind, not by the standards of the
ton
, but they pursued the usual amusements of their class, and had little time for children. ’Twas Edwina, together with one or two of the nannies, who had provided discipline for a small boy who would otherwise have been allowed to do exactly as he pleased on any given day, and as for Eleanor—

Eddie searched for her spectacles and, finding them on the small writing table, turned again to the window. One simply did not get views like this in London.

Not that they would be here for long. After the first flurry of questions had subsided, and she’d visited the—tiny—stable to tend to Artemis, Lady Edwina returned to the cottage and made short work of organizing the situation at Tern’s Rest. For a start she declared herself a sufficient chaperone for her brother’s presence therein and that unpleasant woman—Mrs. Groundsell?—was summarily removed. Eddie took over the vacated bedroom with a minimum of fuss, and although she might prefer her own bedding she was forced to admit that Mrs. Marwick’s house was impeccably clean. Even the furnishings were rather lovely, albeit in small, cottage-y sort of way, and an Ashdown did not complain about trivialities. She could be comfortable enough here for a day or two.

Then they would leave. Clearly Colin had imposed upon his hostess long enough.

He had dressed her down smartly the first moment they had alone.

“Gods, Eddie. I don’t have a fiancée as yet, as you know perfectly well.”

“Colin, you asked me—”

“I asked you to find me a female whom I might
possibly
contract marriage.”

“You will adore Lady Susan, I’m quite sure of it.”

But the marquess had only run his hands through his hair, looking frustrated and unconvinced, and his sister now thought she knew why.

  * * * *

Lady Edwina had been staying at Marchers, the marquess’s home in London, when word came that her brother would not be attending Evelyn’s house party. Eleanor had already left for Elswick Manor, with many complaints, not about the party itself, but about the journey, which was to be spent without a single sister to talk to.

“Come with me!” begged Ellie. “I shall be bored beyond endurance in that carriage.”

“You know I cannot. The countess has made it clear that Lady Susan will not be ready to travel until the next week.”

“I don’t understand why. Surely she has enough gowns for Northumberland.”

Eddie wondered herself. She had heard more than a little about the Earl of Winton’s financial straits, and she assumed that the family would be thrilled with an invitation to Elswick Manor.

 Perhaps the girl was simply nervous. At any rate, Eleanor had left only a day earlier when they received the news at Marchers, although not from her brother himself. The word came in a most round-about way; a note from Colin’s man of affairs, which said only that his lordship had been unavoidably detained.

Which was most unlike the marquess. Lady Edwina was quite sure that her brother had no desire to be present at another one of Evelyn’s over-stuffed events—Eddie herself had suffered from dyspepsia for a month after last Christmas—but she’d made
specific
arrangements to introduce him to Lady Susan Daubney, and he’d promised he would be there. She was not worried, but she was very . . . interested. There was only one thing that Lady Edwina imagined would divert her brother from his appointed rounds, and it was something that had never occurred before.

Lord Ashdown had become interested in a woman.

This was a situation that clearly required investigation, but how? Mr. Fairclough, Colin’s man of affairs, was sixty if he was a day, absolutely loyal to the marquess and ridiculously close-mouthed; Lady Edwina doubted that even Eleanor could winkle the information from him. So after some thought, she arranged for Fairclough to be called away from his office for a few hours, and went to see Mr. Hooper, his young and more persuadable assistant.

Eddie frowned to herself. She supposed she would need to make certain that the young man was not let go. But she doubted her brother would do so. Colin would simply put the blame on her, which was admittedly where it belonged.

That trip had netted an address in County Durham, which was suspiciously close to Elswick Manor and the aforementioned party. So close, in fact, that Lady Edwina could not understand why he had chosen to send word all the way to London, and she became more convinced that there must be a female involved. Or perhaps he had become involved in smuggling.

Eddie laughed to herself. Colin Ashdown, a smuggler? Now there was an amusing idea.

No, ’twas a woman, she decided. Burning with curiosity, she had made arrangements for Lady Susan to take an Ashdown carriage the following week, as planned, and left herself the next day.

And now, after only a few minutes in Fiona Marwick’s kitchen, Lady Edwina knew she had been correct.

The Marquess of Carinbrooke was in love.

Chapter 16: The Almost Kiss

The next morning Fiona rose early and took a long walk down to the beach. The tide was at its lowest ebb, and she watched sea anemones and starfish at the rock pools for most of an hour. ’Twas a good diversion, a way to avoid the thoughts that marched through her head in an endless, maddening circle. But they returned quickly enough, as soon as she began the long trek uphill.

Wilfred Thaxton’s letter.

Lady Edwina, her newest houseguest.

And Lord Ashdown’s fiancée.

Cousin Wilfred’s arrival
should
be her primary concern, and it was, but she could do nothing about the man or his claim to own Tern’s Rest. He would arrive when he arrived, and until then she refused to think of the matter, which seemed somehow unreal. At this moment the possibility of being turned from her home was less daunting than the prospect of facing—within minutes, in her own kitchen—the Marquess of Carinbrooke and his sister.

A marquess. There were perhaps twenty in all of England, and of course she’d heard the name before, but she never paid much attention to those matters, nor had she put it together with his surname, and—

What a fool she was.

An affianced marquess. So far out of her reach that they might have lived on opposite sides of the world.

They’ll be gone within a few days, Fiona reminded herself. Lady Edwina will make sure of it. She had seen what Colin had not noticed, that his sister
suspected
her. Of what, Mrs. Marwick was not sure. But the lady’s eyes had followed her, narrowed and thoughtful, through the whole of the previous night’s conversation.

Which had been mercifully brief, at least. Dee had seemed little happier with Fiona’s newest company, which was strange in itself, as the doctor was usually delighted to meet anyone and everyone. They’d made an odd foursome, Mrs. Marwick and the doctor, Lord Ashdown and his sister, all of them chatting politely about inconsequentials while deflecting Madelaine’s all-too-pointed questions.

“Where’s Elswick Manor?”

“Is a marquess like a duke?”

“Is Colin leaving?”

They
were
leaving very shortly, Fiona was certain of it, and ’twas just as well. She had enough to do to take care of Maddie, and to prepare for the coming winter. Admittedly the coastal winters were mild enough that preparations consisted mostly of putting by a good store of vegetables in the root cellar, which was already full to bursting; still, there was always some chore to be done. Nor did Mrs. Marwick want to contemplate the scene that Wilfred Thaxton would cause, when he finally arrived—Maddie outraged, and Lord Ashdown full of pity for the poor widow, never mind where they could possibly put the man—

No, she did not want to endure Wilfred Thaxton’s presence with a marquess looking on, not to mention Lady Edwina.

Who would no doubt disapprove of something. Perhaps the cut of Mr. Thaxton’s jacket.

Fiona almost grinned at that, despite her gloomy thoughts. Oh, what did it matter, anyway? What did any of it matter? If it wasn’t for Madelaine she would give up the cottage this minute, and travel to London to make her living as a . . . well, however one made one’s living in London. There must be ways, a good cook was always in demand, and she could sew as well.

No. She could not bear to leave. Barley Mow was her home.

Lord Ashdown was to be married.

Fiona sat for a moment, on the nearest flat rock, and waited for the feelings of panic to subside.

Admit it. Admit that you care. Mrs. Marwick had found something in the marquess that could not be easily replaced, even by the doctor. Dee Fischer would also leave, eventually. Perhaps not from Barley Mow, but he would find a woman to love and who would love him, and Fiona's and Maddie's life would change. She'd always known this, and wished for it with her whole heart. Deandros Fischer was too good a man to go through life alone.

I don't want to be alone, either.

The thought was so strong, so clear, that 'twas as if another woman—someone Fiona barely recognized—spoke it aloud in her own mind.

I have Madelaine.

Yes.

But she did not attempt to tell herself that she did not also long for a man to share her life and her bed. She did not pretend that the man she wanted was not the Marquess of Carinbrooke.

  * * * *

It was still early when she regained Tern’s Rest, and not wishing to face the kitchen quite yet, Fiona turned to the stables. In addition to Susannah, their aging milk cow, the small building now housed two finely-bred and no doubt extraordinarily expensive animals, Bunny and Lady Edwina’s mare, Artemis.

The stable was dim in the early morning light of a cloudy day. She inhaled the soft, warm smells of the animals as Lord Ashdown’s mount nickered in welcome.

“Hello, Bunny,” she said, stroking his forehead. The horse nuzzled her cheek, and for a moment she felt the urge to bury her face in its neck and cry.

Stop behaving like a child.

“I have no carrots for you,” she told the stallion, “but Maddie will be here soon.”

Fiona used a low stool to reach the bucket of oats that Hobbs was now keeping for the horses. It hung well up on the stable wall but she managed to remove it from its nail without spilling overmuch, and she gave Bunny and Artemis a few handfuls each.

“I suppose you’ll need to get used to your real name,” she told the stallion. “Achilles is really quite nice, you know.”

Bunny looked at her and nickered again, a pleasant, friendly sound. She would miss the animal nearly as much as Madelaine would. There was something comforting about a big animal, thought Fiona, especially one as calm as Lord Ashdown’s stallion.

“Good morning.”

She started. Lord Ashdown was standing—or rather, leaning on his crutches—in the shadows at the back of the stables, near Susannah’s stall.

“Oh! Your lordship—” Fiona hesitated, wondering if a marquess required a more elaborate address. The events of yesterday had been hurried and confused, and that point had never been made clear.

“Colin,” said Colin.