Lady X (7 page)

Horses dominated the conversation as X was an avid horsewoman and was curious as to the breed Jacob’s grandfather had used to produce such successful steeds.

Their mutual love of horses explored, they moved into the sport of fox hunting which Sir Jacob loved, he told her above all other sports.

Exerilla began telling him of the ‘drag hunts’ she had been on with the local ‘fox hunting club’ in her area back home.

“
Drag hunts
?” he looked perplexed.

“Yes, when they take the scent of the fox over fences and you follow the hounds working the scent?”
Woops,
she thought, perhaps they didn’t do that in this century.

He shook his head, “
Americans.
I don’t know anything about this drag hunting, but I will tell you, that you haven’t been fox hunting till you have done the Quorn.”

“Tough territory?” she asked.

He eyed her. “I love the way you have of phrasing things.
Tough?
I will tell you that at the end of the day hunting in the Quorn, one can scarcely move, indeed I have found myself quite done up after just such a day!” he answered her jovially and with such good cheer that she laughed.

“It sounds thrilling,” she told him smiling brightly. “Well as to that, no, I haven’t had a chance to hunt in the north as I have only just arrived in England a little over a week ago and the season was well over.”

“Do you Stag hunt in America?” he asked curiously.

“I
do not, and I am told that it is a killer hunt, straight line, all out,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t like the kill at the end of the hunt, so I prefer a ‘drag hunt’ which works the hounds over a scent. Beautiful to watch them, lovely fences to take, and no death at the end.” She couldn’t remember when ‘drag hunts’ came into being, but she told herself, he would just chalk it up to her being American.

He frowned again but said, “Aye, watching the hounds work, is quite a wondrous thing.”

He seemed to hesitate before he asked, “Do you not have any siblings, a brother or a sister?”

“No, I am quite alone,” she answered happy that she could do so truthfully.

“And no beau?” he didn’t quite meet her eye.

She laughed, “No, no beau.” she answered without adding anything to this.

“That’s hard to believe. I would think you would have a string of them dangling.”

She laughed, “Very uncomfortable notion.”

He smiled, “Right, so are you off to relatives then?” he frowned and she could see he was concerned.

“Not… exactly. As it happens, my father and the late Squire of Kingston House, where I was a guest had been friends.” The lie nibbled at her mind and made her feel and look uneasy. She hurried on to add, “He ended his life in debt just a year ago, and they were unable to get word to me not to come. You see, they aren’t able to properly look after themselves, let alone a guest. They thought it best I go to relatives of theirs where I might make myself useful.”

“Ah, I see,” his eyes were shaded but she could see he did not look pleased with this piece of information.

She laughed, “Don’t look like that, Sir Jacob; I am sure it will be okay and it won’t be for so very long.”

“Okay?” he puzzled up at her.

“Oh, it means fine, it will be fine, just a term my… er…mother was wont to say to me.”

“Right, but what makes you think you won’t be stuck there for a long time, and where will
here
actually be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. One never knows where one will be from one moment to the next,” she said hoping to perplex him and leave it at that.

“Your very next moment is what I am wondering about. Where are you headed exactly?”

“Horwich House.”

“Horwich House? Egad, I am sorry for it.”

“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

He retracted, “I am a blabbering fool. I don’t care much for the present squire, but that is only because of the way he manages his inheritance.” He blushed. “Here I am I calling the kettle black.”

She laughed, and then sighed. “Well, it will be a roof over my head until I can leave.”

“What does that mean? Until you can leave?”

“Well, one must find a way to improve one’s situation, right?” she countered hoping this would serve to satisfy him. Why did she always speak before thinking?

“Ah, I see,” he answered. It was evident to Exerilla that he didn’t, which was just fine. He decided to shrug this off and said, “You may be certain that we
…I…
will make this up to you by seeing you to your door. Miss Radley…”

She interrupted him. “You may call me Exerilla, or X. My friends always call me X.”

“Ah…er…” He stumbled a bit and blushed. “Exerilla it is then. I want to assure you that I shall make it my business to stop by and pay you a morning call
, if
you would allow.”

Exerilla brightened. “Oh, I would like that.” She was really concerned about going into a household of strangers, but she liked Sir Jacob. She was making matters more complicated, but she had to live for the next few months.

He smiled fleetingly before his face took on a grim expression. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what you had to endure at Jerry’s hands. I am very ashamed we did not try to do more to stop him.”

“You probably couldn’t have, Sir Jacob. If I may remark, I don’t think he is the sort to make you a reliable friend. The sooner he is out of your life, the more comfortable I think you will be,” Exerilla said softly.

“You are quite right. I am heartily sorry that I was a party to the entire escapade,” he said seriously. “I do beg your pardon.”

“You have it, Sir Jacob,” she said brightly trying to fit into the mold of a woman of the times.

“As you have allowed me the liberty to address you as Exerilla, please do call me Jake,” he said shyly. “My father called me, Jake, much to my mother’s dismay. I find I miss hearing it.”

“Okay then, Jake,” she said with a smile and thought that just maybe she might get through the next few months reasonably well.

~ Six ~

HORWICH HOUSE HAD never, even in its heyday, been a grand estate. Its design was confused and its style erratic. Now with its lands left unmanaged it had fallen into sad disrepair; not from lack of funds, but from a lack of concern.

The late squire had left his estate to his nephew because he had no choice. It was an ancient codicil of the will that the family estate be passed on to the next male in line.

The new Squire Samuel Horwich had little affection for his late relative and even less concern for the land. He saw Horwich House as a roof over his head, its lands were naught but a minor source of income, and he had absolutely no ambition to improve the property.

His wife, Mary Horwich, eyed her husband as he moved across the sitting room and poured himself another shot of brandy. She wondered what had happened to the man she married. The man she thought he was.

He had become a slovenly bully of a man. His indistinct brown eyes were always bloodshot, his gray hair unkempt, and his belly resembled a barrel.

“Mary, damn you!” he shouted across the room as though she were in another part of the house. “This bottle is nearly done and there isn’t another on the sideboard. Haven’t I told you to keep more within my reach? Go on, woman, and fetch me another from the cellar!”

She put down her sewing, avoided meeting his eyes, and quietly withdrew from the room. It was easier to just do his bidding than to get into a battle of words. She did not want to provoke him. Her late cousin’s ward, the American named Exerilla, was due to arrive. He had been pleasant enough about this when she had told him she would like to invite the child. When he looked at her, his smile was the one she remembered from another time when he said, “Aye then Mary, you need a companion. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. Go ahead then; tell them she can come here.”

Those moments never lasted long. Now, all she could hope for was that the drink would not send him off into a tirade the moment the child arrived.

She felt a wave of guilt as she wished he might drink himself into a stupor and not be heard of for the rest of the evening.

The Fates are wicked creatures forever playing games. He was still very much awake when she returned to the sitting room, but she smiled. She found that her grown son, David had arrived. David turned as he heard her enter the room.

David had been the light of her life. She adored him, but he was turning into his father. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

She sighed as she regarded her tall, nice looking son. He was only four and twenty with soft gray eyes and neatly cropped dark blond curls. She had recognized that he was spoiled beyond repair. He, also like his father had a propensity for hard drinking, hard living, and secrets.

David smiled warmly as he welcomed his mother. If he had one redeeming quality in his spoiled dark nature, it was his open and sincere affection for her. His father’s behavior had not been able to crush that.

“There you are!” David greeted jovially. “Father and I were just wondering what was keeping you.” He moved forward and relieved her of the four bottles she was carrying. He set them on the sideboard, put an arm about her shoulders, and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

As the squire grumbled a complaint, David poured his father a drink, effectively silencing him.

Mary marveled at her son’s ability to avoid ever taking sides. She returned to her chair to continue her sewing.

“Where is your late cousin’s ward?” David asked curiously as he moved to take up a chair near the low fire in the grate. “This is a very late time of night to be arriving, I would think. How is she getting here? Papa said that Michaels returned here an hour ago, saying that the stagecoach had not yet arrived.”

“Yes, well I wish we had not told Michaels to stable the carriage and go to bed. What an awful thing for her to arrive with no one there to greet her and bring her here.”

“Hmm, she probably won’t arrive till morning,” David suggested.

“No. Michaels said the coach depot man said that he had no idea what was keeping them,” Mary answered as she clasped her hands.

“Don’t fidget woman!” her husband commanded.

She looked away. “It can’t be the child’s fault as your father would have it. I mean if the stage is late, it is late.” She eyed her son. “I don’t suppose you feel up to taking a quick trip into town and looking into the situation?”

He took immediate umbrage. “The devil I will! Why should I? She can hire something to bring her out here when the stagecoach arrives.”

Mary bit her tongue.

* * *

Exerilla’s green eyes were open wide as the coach came to a full stop. She was in Dover in the year 1815.
Fascinating.

The coach pulled up to a row of two story buildings. One with a long awning, a panoramic window, and a sign denoting it as Dover Coach. She could see the closed sign in the window, illuminated by the newly installed gas street lamp.

Exerilla heard the coachman grumbling that he still had quite a bit to do, as he climbed down and went about his business.

She watched him slip his paperwork through the slot in the door, before he turned back to the coach and removed her luggage from the boot.

She turned and watched as Jake who had climbed out of the coach said at the open door, “Will someone from Horwich House be meeting you?” She shook her head. “I don’t see anyone…”

She saw by the grim look on her new friend’s face that he was certainly concerned about this.

She lowered her head. “No, I don’t suppose they bothered to wait—
it is
late.” She had no idea what the Horwich family was like. Mrs. Kingston spoke highly of her cousin, Mary Horwich, but had little to say about the squire. She knew she shouldn’t whine. This was just one more situation she would have to deal with until she could leave. She couldn’t help wishing for the hundredth time, that she could just find a little cottage all by herself in which to hide away till Samhain. She had made up her mind that if all else failed, that was what she would do. Perhaps she could conjure up enough money without emitting too much residue.

“Look then, Exerilla, stay here in the coach and I’ll go see what we can come up with. Don’t worry yourself about it. We shall get you to Horwich House,” Jacob said going off into the dark.

The door at the opposite side of the coach opened, startling Exerilla. She had been wondering where Jerry Swit and his lordship had gone off to. Here was one of them with his bright eyes alive with amusement. Even in the dim light of the street lamp, she could see his lordship’s glittering blue eyes. He said, “Well then, lass, I thought I would join ye while Jacob wasn’t looking and steal a parting kiss.” He climbed into the coach and sat down right beside her.

She put up a hand. “Is that what you thought?” She managed to control herself and said merely, “
Think again
.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Aye, on second thought I must have two kisses. What say ye?” He made no move on her, but merely regarded her quizzically.

“Arrogant blade,” she said remembering the term from a historical romance she had once read. “No doubt you think I should swoon for a kiss from you.”

“At the very least, I expect ye sweet lass, to breathe hard and let me bring ye in a little closer.” His voice was husky but the tease was in his eyes.

Exerilla’s mind once again turned to mush. He had taken all the standards she had thought about what she wanted in a man and had bombarded them in her, turning those patterns inside out and then setting them upside down.

He was a flirt, like none she had ever known. He tickled her sense of humor as well, making him lethal to her libido.

She knew that he was only passing the time with her, but his charm was most compelling. She looked away from him as she gathered the strength to rebuff him. She was in the wrong era and he was the wrong man. She wasn’t about to get caught up in a romantic mess here in jolly old England in 1815.
So Xie girl, get it together
, she told herself.

Jacob came into view. She could see he would soon be at the door and she would be saying so long to the hunk beside her. A fleeting sense of disappointment rushed through her. She had to admit to herself that she had enjoyed her time with this
arrogant blade
. It had been in the end, a harmless adventure.

He wasn’t harmless though, not to her. She was way too attracted to the hot hunk and it would take some doing to forget him.

She said with a sigh, “Okay then, here is Jake.”

“
Jake is it?”
His dark brow arched. “My, my. Ye two have become friendly,” he said on a low questioning note. “Has our young Jacob taken on the role of a knight in shining armor, lass?”

“There is no gainsaying, my lord.” She paused, proud that she could pull up a nineteenth century term. “That if ever I needed a knight, I needed one on this trip to Dover.” Her eyes twinkled appreciatively.

Her attention was momentarily diverted by Jerry Swit who had crossed the avenue and intercepted Jacob. She watched the two as their hands flew about their heads and they obvious argued with one another. Jerry Swit poked Jacob in the chest and Exerilla frowned as she was mildly worried. Jerry Swit was a wild card not to be trusted.

Suddenly Swit threw back his head and laughed, but to her ears it was an ugly sound. He shrugged young Jacob off with a wave of his hand and walked off toward the Tavern across the way. She was able to sigh with relief and realized she had been concerned for Jake’s safety.

Exerilla turned and found his lordship’s watchful blue eyes scanning her face. Sir Jacob opened the door wide. He frowned and said, “Are you here, Hunter?”

“Apparently so, lad.”

“What are ye doing? We don’t want to delay Miss Radley any further.”

“I’m simply bidding the lovely lass a fond farewell.” His lordship returned smoothly.

“Then bid it and have done,” Jacob answered immediately. “Miss Radley is tired and wishes no more of us, I am sure.”

“Uh-ho, young Jacob. Tread warily when issuing orders in my direction.” His lordship’s voice was low and quiet.

Sir Jacob looked away and ignored this remark. He offered his hand to Exerilla and said quietly, “Miss Radley, I have a carriage and driver waiting to take you to Horwich House. I must apologize, for it is an open carriage. With any good luck the rain will hold off until you reach your destination. I don’t think it is more than a ten minute journey.”

His lordship was out of the coach and standing beside Exerilla. She felt him at her back, bending toward her ear, and touching a stray length of hair as he whispered, “Exerilla, lass…”

She turned to look at him and once again tried not to let his good looks get to her. She said softly, “I did not give you leave to use my given name, my lord.”

“Then do so love, for I mean to use it from now on. If ye must flash those green eyes of yers at me,
do it.
I would love to see their fire one more time this evening,” he answered on a husky note.

She knew this was daring for the time she was in. She had never heard a man from her time flirt so well. She arched a brow at him. “Hopefully, we shall not meet again and therefore the problem will not arise.”

“More a fool ye be, lass if ye think that,” he said with that forever playfulness in his voice.

Jacob took her elbow. “Never mind him. Miss Radley. Your carriage awaits and I do want to get you off before it rains.”

Exerilla looked up into the darkly overcast sky. She couldn’t make out any stars, although some moonlight peeped through as the dark clouds scudded by. Sighing, she turned toward the open carriage and hoped she wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

She slumped into place beside the short stout driver, who appeared a friendly but quiet older man. He handed her a blanket for her lap before clucking his horses forward. She wondered if she ever would see his lordships’s blue eyes again.

They hadn’t gone more than a few moments when the first drop fell.

This was just how her luck was going lately. There wasn’t anything she could do without using magic to help herself.