The American Bride (21 page)

"Did Uncle Julian send you down?" the boy asked belligerently.

"Oh, no, Richard," Cara cried in distress.

"Was it because of the row this morning?" He ignored Cara's protest and hurried on. "I heard a lot of yelling this morning and Mrs. Clayton said that you were in the library with Uncle Julian. When he's mad and tearing a strip off one, his voice shakes the pictures in the Long Gallery." The boy shook his head in sympathy. "Pennyfeather says Uncle Julian's more wind than damage."

Cara wasn't surprised that Richard was aware of the morning's contretemps. It was not as though Julian had made any attempt to conceal his anger. And of course the servants always knew everything that went on in the Hall. Since the children had the run of the kitchen they were privy to much of the gossip that was passed back and forth over a cup of tea.

"I suppose I better explain," Cara sighed in resignation. She had hoped the children would accept the fact that she would be gone for several days and not look too closely at her story. She hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. "It is true that your Uncle Julian was angry with me. He found me out riding this morning and I had not asked his permission to use one of the horses. You know how particular he is about his cattle."

"But why were you riding, Miss Farraday?" Richard's forehead was wrinkled in bafflement remembering the last time that he had seen Cara on a horse.

"I was practicing," Cara improvised.

"Oh, I see." The story was acceptable to the boy. Then remembering again her last ride, Richard broke into a mischievous grin. "I can see Uncle Julian now. He probably thought you were abusing his precious horse. What a facer that must have been."

"Now as to your question, young lady. Mrs. Clayton has agreed to look after you." As a frown began to form on the child's face Cara said, "She has a lovely new sampler she thought you might like to try. And I hoped you would like to help Cook in the kitchen. She might even teach you how to make those sugar buns you like."

Thus reminded of the remaining food, Belin scrambled down and once more launched herself at the plate of goodies. Richard stared at Cara, waiting for word of his fate.

"I thought you might like to help Glum in the stables." She smiled at the lightened look in Richard's eyes. "One day you will be setting up your own stables and there's a lot you will have to know. You'll work with him until your uncle returns."

Richard didn't comment immediately. He searched her face to see if there was something else she wanted to say. Then he shrugged as if to say that even though he was not totally satisfied he would do what she had instructed.

Cara's eyes swam at the perception of the boy. Leaning forward she blinked her eyes to clear her vision before she was able to pour more hot chocolate. The children chattered away but she had little heart to join in as she usually did. Too soon, it was time for Cara to leave. Hugging Belin she reminded her to be good for Mrs. Clayton and to remember her manners. Promising she would buy her a present in London, she held the squirming child to her heart for one last hard squeeze.

Richard stood very straight in the doorway. He brushed the toe of his boot on the back of his trouser leg. Then looking directly up at Cara he sighed.

"You will be coming back again, Miss Farraday?" he asked with a shaking voice. "Please?"

Cara knelt down in front of the boy, her dress spreading out prettily around her. Rather like flower petals, he thought. In fact Miss Farraday was like a flower with her shining face so close to his and the scent of her perfume filling his nose. He hadn't realized how pretty she was until just this minute. She certainly was a smasher though.

"I know you're worried," began Cara. "But I'm hoping that I will be back very soon. There's something I have to settle first. But I promise you, Richard, that I will come back and explain if for any reason I have to go away permanently. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes, I guess so." For one awkward minute the child's chin trembled but he quickly got his expression under control. "But if it's all right I'd rather you'd come to stay here forever."

"Thank you, Richard."

Cara put her arms around the boy who at first stiffened and then yielded, throwing his own arms around her. They hugged tightly then she gave him a little push down the hall toward his room.

Richard reflected that it hadn't been so bad being hugged by Miss Farraday even if he was a little old for that baby stuff. He bet if Uncle Julian hugged her once he wouldn't be half so mad about the horses. But then grown ups were funny. Uncle Julian might not like hugging very much.

For her part Cara was busy clearing up after the children. She dried her eyes and tried not to think about Belin and Richard. She had no way of knowing whether Julian in his anger would permit her to see the children again. If he wanted a divorce she knew in her heart she would not fight him. She would prefer the disgrace of rejection and the scandal it engendered than to have a husband who did not love her. However no matter what was decided about her own future, she would force Julian to let her see the children and explain if she would be going away permanently. They had already suffered enough losses in their young lives. They were fond of her and they trusted her so that she could never go away without first seeing them one last time. She loved the children with all her heart and no matter what it cost her pride she would insist that Julian allow her that.

Summoned at the arrival of the coach, Cara clutched her portmanteau and walked on leaden feet down the main staircase. Mrs. Clayton waited for her, her plump face creased with an anxious frown. Cara had only told her that she would send word when, and if, she would return. Like the other servants, the housekeeper was well aware of the argument with Julian. Eyes bright with unshed tears the two women hugged with genuine affection.

Ceremoniously handed into the luxurious coach, Cara settled herself into the plush cushions. She leaned her head against the soft upholstery, forcing herself not to look back as Weathersfield was swallowed up in the early evening gloom. Despite vowing she would use the time to order her muddled thoughts and feelings, she tumbled into a restless slumber as the horses bore her to London and her fate.

Chapter Twelve

"Offhand, my child, I'd say you've made a fine muddle of things."

Cara's grandmother, Liela, spoke dryly to the misty-eyed girl who slumped in the chair across from her. She had listened as the story unfolded and watched the play of emotion on Cara's face and the unspoken words behind her faltering explanations.

"I'm terribly sorry, Grandmother. Really I am," Cara said. "I did try to stay in the background. It all just seemed to happen without my having any control. Please don't be angry, Gran."

"I'm not angry, Cara."

At her grandmother's warm words, Cara glanced up in surprise. It was true. The Duchess didn't look angry. In general, she looked pleased and there was almost a smug, satisfied gleam in her eyes. Although puzzled by the older woman's manner, the girl hurried on.

"At least there isn't any open scandal. At least not yet. Luckily Julian was called away," Cara explained. Then as Liela continued to smile, Cara's eyes opened wide in wonder. "The paper he was reading. It was a letter. And, if my guess is correct, you sent it."

"The letter I think you are referring to, Cara, was one I sent to Lord Wilton requesting his presence most urgently. After all with Julian at Weathersfield it would have been difficult to send a carriage to collect you without him suspecting something was rather havey-cavey. Of course when I penned the note I had no idea you were in such a tight fix."

"You mean, Julian is here?" Cara gasped, leaping to her feet.

"No. No. Softly, child. Remember it's late and I am still an old woman." The Duchess chuckled at the snort of disbelief from her cheeky granddaughter. "When Lord Wilton arrived, he was instructed to return in the morning. I imagine he's safely ensconced in one of his clubs working off his frustration by drinking with his cronies. Men have a difficult time dealing with the crotchets of old ladies."

"But what will I say to him? What will I do?"

The Duchess watched in amusement as Cara paced across the carpet. It reminded her of a similar scene just a month ago. Then, the girl had been decrying the existence of her marriage; now, she was terrified that this same marriage might be terminated.

All in all the older woman was well pleased. It appeared that the child must have some sort of feeling for Julian. Although Cara had spoken of her fondness for the children, the Duchess could see the pain that crossed the girl's face when her husband's name was mentioned. There were some obvious gaps in Cara's story during which, Liela suspected, Julian had acted less than gentlemanly. Apparently he had drawn the line at actually compromising her granddaughter.

"Are you in love with Wilton?"

Cara's head snapped up. For a moment the Duchess expected she would answer in the negative. Then the girl sighed, settling herself on the soft carpeting in front of her grandmother.

"I'm afraid so, Gran," she whispered. "I love him with all my heart."

Smiling down at Cara's radiant face, the Duchess remembered her own impetuous romance. Her gnarled fingers smoothed the reddish curls away from the girl's soft white forehead. One beringed hand traced down the soft cheek and cupped the firm chin. "Then, my child, you'll just have to wait and see what we can do."

"But he'll be so angry." Cara winced imagining Julian's fury.

"Perhaps. Men are rarely amused by a woman's machinations.

Even though our manipulations are generally for their own good," she finished spiritedly. "At any rate there's no point in getting into a pother until we hear from Julian. No need to rush your fences."

The Duchess yawned, covering her mouth delicately with her blue-veined hands. Then she patted the girl once more.

"It's already past midnight, Cara. Tomorrow will be another day. Time then to resolve all these problems." Cara helped the old woman to her feet. "It will be pleasant dealing with your troubles in the daytime, my dear. Every time you appear I am kept much too late from my bed," she reproved, then her expression softened. "I have the feeling that no matter what tomorrow brings I will be pleased to have you here in England."

"Goodnight, Gran," Cara said kissing the wrinkled cheek. "I'm glad to be here with you, too. No matter what."

But Cara's brave words disappeared as she lay sleepless in her bed. Over and over she remembered Julian's fury and his insulting suggestions. No matter what happened she feared she would be unhappy with the outcome. The bright morning brought little relief to Cara's mind. She breakfasted with her grandmother but could barely swallow any of her food. The Duchess refused to discuss anything until after she had seen and talked to Julian. Until then Cara must be content to wait.

When he was announced, Cara was directed to the garden until the Duchess sent someone for her. The last thing she saw was the regal figure of her grandmother seated in a throne-like chair in the salon. The older woman was dressed in pearl-encrusted midnight blue silk. White lace ruffles at neck and wrists were spattered with brilliants and in her ring-covered hands she gripped a Malacca walking stick with an enormous ruby embedded in the top. She almost pitied Julian in his interview with the intimidating Duchess.

Cara strolled amid the flowerbeds hoping that the gentle beauty of her surroundings would ease the tension of the morning. Birds flitted from tree to tree and, as she rounded a bend in the walk, two rabbits streaked ahead of her, disappearing under a hedge. When she reached the gazebo she sank dispiritedly onto the cushioned seat.

For a while she tried to read the book of poetry she had brought with her but found that although her eyes skimmed the words on the page her brain refused to register their meaning. Finally she leaned her head against one of the pillars and closed her eyes.

"Cara!"

The angry shout brought Cara instantly awake and she shook her head to clear the cobwebs that had coated her brain. Striding furiously along the path was Julian. The flash of fury on his face banished her hopes and she turned to flee.

Julian bounded up the steps, grasping Cara's wrist before she could get away. Whirling her around, he speared the girl with the intensity of his gaze. He caught his breath as he stared down at her. The baggy-dressed governess was gone and in her place was an exquisite creature he barely recognized.

Cara wore a celestial blue gauze frock, tied beneath her breasts with varicolored ribbons. The simple lines and clinging material emphasized the rounded curves of her body. Her hair, which Julian had seen only once, floated around her face and hung down her back in a glorious halo of burnished curls. Flushed with discomfort her face was the creamy rose of a healthy complexion. For a moment he stared down at the quaking figure with admiration, but when his eyes touched her blue-green ones his anger was rekindled.

"You gave me your word you wouldn't leave Weathersfield!" he barked. "I find it unpardonable that you should break it."

"I didn't!" Cara shouted back at him, insulted that he should mistrust her so. "You made me promise that I would not steal a horse. And I didn't," she finished triumphantly.

"You are the most infuriatingly annoying young woman it has ever been my misfortune to meet!"

"And you, sir, are the most arrogant, insensitive person that I have ever known!"

Cara flung away from Julian, moving back against the wooden railing of the gazebo. Her chest rose and fell with the rush of emotion racing through her veins at his presence. Peeking at Julian through the lacy network of her eyelashes, she acknowledged that his face was slightly haggard but despite that he was so handsome that Cara felt her heart swell with pride.

"Why aren't you still at Weathersfield? How did you get here?" Julian's questions shot out rapidly permitting no reply. "And what the Devil are you doing in the Duchess' gardens?"

"You seem to have forgotten, Lord Wilton, that I came to your employ through the helpful services of the Duchess. She sent for me not long after you left Weathersfield."