Fortune's Lady (24 page)

But he detected something else beside a sparkle in her eyes. There was a wariness, an unease. He had seen it before in the eyes of wild animals. It was the fear of being caught, of being trapped.

Summoning up all his willpower, Gareth gently laid both hands on her shoulders and set her away from him. “Forgive me, Althea. I did not mean to alarm you. I just wanted you to know that I admire you. And I thank you for sharing your healing powers with me, since I know you care about animals a great deal more than you care about humans.”

A reluctant smile quivered at the corners of her mouth. The wary expression disappeared. “You are correct about that. Luckily for you, my lord, your team looked to be in better shape than you did, so I concentrated on you. But now I must go because I promised Jem I would take a closer look at their wounds the moment you were assured of their well-being. The cuts on their legs are healing nicely, but they still need to be looked after.”

He gave a crack of laughter. “Go along then, Althea. This patient is most grateful for your care, and he cannot thank you enough for healing him.”

But as she rose and hurried out the door, he could not help whispering, “You may have healed my body, Althea, but what have you done to my soul?”

Chapter 27

Mr. Warboys called
at Kennington the next day and
pronounced the marquess fit enough to move about the house with the aid of a crutch. “But mind you, not putting any weight on that leg, my lord. I have seen more sporting gentlemen and former cavalry fellows than I care to remember, thinking that they can do more than they should when they have broken something. So I am giving you fair warning that if you put that foot to the ground you will walk with a limp and ache in damp weather for the rest of your life.”

Gareth grinned at the surgeon’s ferocious expression, “Have no fear sir. I may be a ‘former cavalry fellow,’ but I do have sense. By the way, how did you know that I was a ‘former cavalry fellow’?”

“A man does not develop the muscles that you have without spending hours in the saddle, and I do not mean jaunting around the park or riding to the hunt. Besides, you have that look about the eyes that says you have seen a good deal more of life than most of us.”

“You are a clever man, Mr. Warboys. I believe that I shall take your advice.”

“See that you do”—the surgeon shook an admonitory finger at his patient—”or you will be the worse for it, believe me.” The fierce expression relaxed into a smile. “Actually, you
do
look as though you have more sense than most of those crazy lads in the cavalry, which is to say, not much. However, you have someone looking after you who has an excellent grasp of such things. I suggest you listen to her. You owe a debt of gratitude to Lady Althea, here, for your excellent and rapid recovery.”

“Believe me, I owe her a great deal more than that.”

The tone of his voice and the wealth of meaning in his eyes brought the color rushing to Althea’s cheeks.

So that is the way it is,
the surgeon thought as he left the room.
I
knew there was more to this than met the eye. I hope he is worthy of her.

Mr. Warboys would have been astounded to know that the marquess asked himself that very question a number of times in the ensuing days, for once he was able to be up and about, Gareth begged Althea’s permission to accompany her on her daily routine.

At first she was reluctant to share her life with him to that degree, but she was no proof against his pleading. “Please,” he begged. “If I have to remain here in this room any longer, I shall die of boredom, and all your good work would be for naught. You would not wish to rescue a man and nurse him back to health only to have him fall into a decline through utter boredom. I know you must have a great deal to do for you have spent all your time attending me, away from your own duties.”

The quirked eyebrow and crooked grin coaxed a reluctant smile from Althea. “Very well, sirrah, but no interfering, mind you. I realize that you know a great deal more about running an estate than I do, but the only way I am going to learn is by doing it on my own.” Her tone was light, but the intensity of her expression warned him that she was very serious. This was her dream and she wished to succeed or fail on her own terms, with no assistance from anyone else.

Gareth respected her for that. No other woman he had met was ready to take such responsibility for her life, no other woman except, perhaps, Maria. But certainly he had never met a woman of his own class who did not automatically assume that it was some man’s duty to look after her and provide for her happiness as well as her welfare.

Yes, he respected her fierce independence, but as the days wore on, he found it increasingly difficult to honor her command not to interfere, for the more he saw how hard Althea worked, the more he wanted to help her achieve everything she was striving for.

With his injured leg carefully protected by piles of pillows, the marquess was able to sit with Althea in her gig as she drove around the estate. He listened intently as she pointed out the fences she had had mended here, the drainage ditches that had been dug there, showed him the fields she was renting to this farmer and to that, the pastures she had turned over for common land and the small woods where she allowed the villagers to hunt and gather fuel for their fires. He heard the excitement in her voice and saw the glow of pride in her eyes as she shared her plans with him, and more than anything in the world he wanted to make it all happen as she planned, to protect her from all the inevitable small disasters and disappointments that occurred in the running of any enterprise the size of Kennington. At the same time, he respected her intelligence enough to be confident that she would be realistic enough to have prepared for these disasters and strong enough to deal with them when they came along.

Gareth had never found himself in such a quandary. He longed to help her, yet at the same time he was desperate for her to succeed on her own. He wanted to give her advice gleaned from his own experience, yet he wanted her to discover the joy and satisfaction that came from figuring things out for herself. He wanted to pour money into Kennington so she could have it restored immediately to the state she envisioned it in the future, but he wanted her to savor the pleasure of watching it grow and flourish over time through her own planning and hard work.

Tossing restlessly in bed at night after a day spent overseeing fields, fences, and tenant farmers, or having passed the day watching Althea bent over ledgers as she balanced accounts or pored over agricultural treatises, the marquess realized at last that it was not so much that he wanted to
do
it all
for
her, as he wished to be allowed to
share
it all
with
her. Lady Althea Beauchamp was planning everything as carefully and intelligently as the Marquess of Harwood ever could, expending as much attention on all the small details as he would, calculating, balancing, weighing alt the factors as strategically and with as much foresight as he had ever brought to bear on any problem, and she was facing those problems and their inherent risks with the same boldness and the same calm courage that he would have mustered.

But even being allowed to share this with her was a very tricky business indeed, as he discovered one morning after breakfast. Althea’s grandmother had disappeared into the library with the
Times
and Althea and the marquess were left in the breakfast room to enjoy the sunlight flooding in through the windows and the view across the green fields to the village in the distance.

“I am letting the fields I have not rented out lie fallow this year while I decide what I shall do with them,” Althea replied to Gareth’s unspoken question as he surveyed the landscape. “But I have almost decided that some of them will be turned over to the sheep, using Townshend’s four-fold rotation system.”

“Sheep!”

“Yes, sheep. What is wrong with that?”

The bristly tone should have warned him, but too intent on his thought process to pay complete attention, Gareth ignored it. “Well, it takes more capital at the outset to purchase the stock and hire a shepherd. Of course, one needs a thorough knowledge of livestock, and then there is the worry of their health, finding good shearers when the time comes, and ...”

“And you do not think I am capable of such things?”

“No, no. I did not say that. But it would be far wiser at first to try a simple crop such as grain until you have acquired both the capital and the expertise to do the other.”

Althea rose. “Naturally I appreciate your advice, my lord, but I have already determined to do things this way.”

“Lady Althea, I beg ...” Gareth grabbed his crutch and struggled awkwardly to his feet, but before he could rise, she had sailed from the room. “Blast!” he muttered, dropping back into his chair. “The girl is as obstinate and independent as ... as ...”
As I am,
he acknowledged to himself ruefully. Not only had she refused to listen to him, but it was quite clear from her clipped tones, squared shoulders, and raised chin, that she thoroughly resented his interference in something she was determined to do herself.

But the most upsetting aspect of the entire episode was the destruction of the understanding that had begun to spring up between them. Gareth did not see her again until dinner, which was a change in their routine because heretofore, she had sought out his company, checking on his leg, inquiring after the bump on his head, and staying to discuss whatever topic was occupying her mind at the moment. And at dinner, though she was pleasant enough to him, her conversation lacked its usual animation and her eyes were cold, devoid of the special warmth he had come to expect when she looked at him.

This coolness disturbed him more than he cared to admit. He had come to count on a firm hand helping him up and down, gentle fingers smoothing his hair as she checked the now almost invisible bump on his head. He missed the comforting closeness that, until Althea had begun nursing him, had been utterly lacking from his life. Gareth longed to get it back, but he did not know how. Any other woman would have been won over by a smile or an apology, but not Althea. He had not angered her as much as intruded into her life. She was not mad at him; she had simply retreated into herself to protect her privacy and independence.

The next day, however, luck was with him and the marquess was given an opportunity to retrieve his position. After breakfast, yet another meal where the conversation was confined to the superficial, he made his way to a bench on the terrace. Althea had gone off to write letters and Gareth, feeling uncomfortably at loose ends without her companionship, sought out a warm spot in the sun where he could smell the scent of spring flowers wafting on the occasional breeze, listen to the birdsongs rising from the meadow, and figure out what he was going to do next.

Mr. Warboys had pronounced him well enough to travel by the end of the week, providing that he promised to take the journey in easy stages and protect the leg well. Until now, Gareth had been loath to leave. He was enjoying Althea’s company too much, more than he had ever enjoyed anyone else’s before. Here, in her own element, the reserve with which she protected her privacy had vanished and she made an excellent and interesting companion. She was more open, honest, and forthright than any gentleman he had ever known, much less lady, and this made him relax in turn and open up to her as he had never opened up to another person. But now that openness was gone, and its loss saddened him, made him ready to leave.

Hurried footsteps and the rustle of paper broke into his reverie and Gareth looked up to see Althea striding along the terrace, angrily crumpling up what looked to be a letter. Seeing him, she came to a dead halt. A frown of annoyance clouded her expression and she turned to go-

“Lady Althea.” Quick as a cat, Gareth caught her wrist and pulled her down on the bench beside him. She struggled in his grasp, but he was far too strong for her to free herself without an undignified struggle. “Please do not go. I wish to apologize for what must have seemed an intrusion into something that was none of my concern.”

“There is no need to apologize, my lord. It is not an offense to offer advice.”

“But it is not the way to show someone that you admire what they have accomplished and that you trust their intelligence and judgment enough to know they will accomplish more. It is just that listening to all your plans, I became so interested in the problems that I forgot they were not mine to solve. Certainly I would have resented anyone telling me what to do.” He smiled ruefully. “And I would not have been so gracious as you were at calling it to my attention.”

The smile, the light of understanding in his eyes, and the sincerity in his voice filled her with a warm feeling of happiness. So he
did
realize what he had done to annoy her. No one else, except possibly her grandmother, would have understood how important it was to her to know she could do it all on her own, that she did not need to depend on the care of anyone else to survive and flourish. Which brought to mind the letter that had sent her racing to the terrace in search of fresh air and sunlight to calm the anger that threatened to overwhelm her. She frowned and crumpled the paper tighter in her hands.

“If I were to guess, I would say that I was not the only one threatening to interfere with your plans.”

“What? Oh, this.” Althea looked at the wad of paper. “It is not unexpected. In fact, I am surprised that I had to wait this long. My father has discovered my whereabouts and I am pleased to report that he has disinherited me.”

“Disinherited you, but why? Just because you left town to take over the management of an estate that was in crying need of repair?”

“Yes. But mostly he has cut me off because I disobeyed him. He is not accustomed to having his authority challenged, much less flouted. Actually, I am relieved that he cut me off. I was far more afraid that he might come to fetch me back.” She tossed her head and laughed bitterly, but the sparkle of tears at the corners of her eyes told Gareth that she was hurt by it all the same.