The English Witch (13 page)

Alexandra, who hadn't yet had the opportunity of observing Mr. Trevelyan try his skills upon anyone other than herself, was here provided an admirable opportunity to broaden her horizons. Oddly enough, she did not find the experience quite as pleasantly instructive as one would expect. She watched in grim fascination as, one by one, he reduced each of the three Osborne girls to giggling imbeciles, while simultaneously showering upon the Mama such sickeningly sweet droplets of flattery that even that stout, formidable matron became, in a matter of minutes, another trembling blossom athirst for the nourishing rain of his admiration.

The lesson was not at all improving to Miss Ashmore's temper, which had gotten a bad start at breakfast when she'd learned, along with everyone else that her Papa had finally decided to accept Lady Hartleigh's gracious invitation and was arriving tomorrow afternoon. He was, moreover, bringing Randolph with him. If Alexandra had thought to forestall her father with hints about the future Duke of Thome, it looked as though she'd better think again. Even as she watched, that undependable gentleman began competing with Basil for the twins' attention.

Lord Arden had not meant to do so. He had, in fact, been wracking his brains since yesterday, trying to contrive some means of getting Basil out of the way so that the courtship of Miss Ashmore might proceed apace. He'd been pleased to note that his Intended had scarcely said a word to Trev at breakfast. She'd apparently taken him in intense dislike, for she'd met the wretch's pleasantries with cool politeness and reserved her warm smiles for himself.

All the same, the marquess considered it neither natural nor agreeable to be completely ignored by a set of pretty young ladies under any circumstances, least of all in favour of Trevelyan. To correct this inequity, he insinuated himself into the conversation, and the twins soon rewarded him with blushes and giggles.

He did not, however, intend to take the duo driving in the afternoon. Unfortunately, Basil said something provoking—then the marquess retorted—then the twins looked so sweetly pleading...and, in the next minute the marquess found himself trapped in an engagement that would not win him
any credit with his Beloved. He vowed inwardly to make speedy amends. But after admiring the dimple on Sarah's chin and noting its perfect mate upon Susan's, then bidding gallant goodbyes to them all, he turned around and found that Miss Ashmore had vanished.

When he asked his hostess where the young lady had gone, he learned that Miss Ashmore had promised Lucy an hour of her exclusive company.

"And you know, Will," Isabella reminded, "that Jess and Miss Ashmore must take her by turns, for she made them promise, and it's no good my telling them they spoil her dreadfully. Everyone spoils her, and poor Miss Ames is left with the thankless task of repairing the damage."

Lord Arden promptly took Lucy in violent dislike. Being a courteous gentleman, he did not share his feelings with his hostess or anyone else, though he did, shortly thereafter, find fault with his valet and berate that villain accordingly.

"You engineered that," said Lady Jessica accusingly, as she followed Basil out to the stables.

He replied very sweetly that he hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about.

"Lud, will you listen to the man? He believes I'm a chaw-bacon, I think. You trapped him into driving those cabbage-heads," she went on reproachfully. "I know you like to have your fun and show how clever you are, but this is not the time for it. What is Miss Ashmore to think?"

"That your brother's taste is faulty, perhaps?"

She shot him a shrewd look. "I think you want her for yourself."

"Of course I do. I want every lady for myself."

"And so you must make trouble for Will? Really, it's most unfair of you. This is the first time in his life he's ever shown the least bit of common sense."

"And a precious little bit it is when the first distraction that comes along is enough to knock it out of him. I don't know why you scold so, Jess. Why, you're the first to make sport of your brother. And now Miss Ashmore's seen him in
his true colours, you're all in a fidge about it. Really, I'm surprised at you."

Lady Jessica Farrington was nobody's fool, and most especially not Basil's. Knowing him as well as she did her own brother, she was not about to be shrugged off so easily. It was true she didn't want to mislead Miss Ashmore. On the other hand, she didn't want Miss Ashmore alienated.

Lady Jess lived in lively terror that her brother would one day marry some beautiful, shallow, self-centered aristocrat like her own mother, totally incapable of improving Will in any way. He needed a great deal of improvement—and soon, if his character was not to be irretrievably ruined.

She'd believed that Miss Ashmore was capable of effecting the desired changes, if only Will didn't make her despise him. Which, of course, she was bound to do when she saw, not that he was a rake, for rakes were rather appealing, but that he was such a fickle creature that he couldn't even manage a pretence of keeping his mind on the woman he was courting.

In a few sentences she laid the matter out for Basil. "Don't you see?" she pleaded. "This may be his only chance to make something decent of himself."

"As he isn't my brother, I really don't care two licks about it," was the unsympathetic reply.

"I should think," said the lady, "you'd enjoy seeing him taught a lesson—regardless your interest in his future."

“You know as well as I there's no teaching him anything."

They had reached the stables, but she drew him away, out of the grooms' hearing. "He's never been so vulnerable before, Basil. He does want to marry her, you know. Unfortunately, he has no experience in the business and doesn't know how to go on. That is to say, he just goes on as he always does—or will, unless Miss Ashmore sets him straight."

"Then what are you telling
me
for?"

"Because you must help her."

"No!" he snapped, with so much force that she was momentarily taken aback. "That is to say," he corrected hastily, "she wouldn't accept any help from me on any account. Nor
do I think she'll take kindly to any advice from you on how to go on with your brother."

"If she were agreeable, would you help?" Jessica coaxed.

Idly tapping his riding crop against his leg, he considered this for a moment or two. Finally he replied, "Well, it would be a bit of fun to see that self-satisfied smirk wiped off Will's face."

She'd won her point, and pressed the advantage without waiting to hear more. "Good. Now, you're not going riding yet."

He protested that he was.

"No. You'll ride with
her,
this afternoon, while Will is out with the twins. We'll make sure he knows about it as soon as he returns. That should make him think twice about taking her for granted."

Deaf to Basil's ironical comments regarding her powers of persuasion, Lady Jess stepped away briefly to tell the grooms to have horses ready for Mr. Trevelyan and Miss Ashmore directly after luncheon.

This done, she turned back to her victim. "Now you must go use all your wiles to persuade her to ride with you."

"I?" he asked indignantly. "I've only agreed to go along with the scheme, if you can effect it. Didn't I just tell you she won't—"

"If she won't, then you're not the man you were. Even if she hates you, you must know some way to get round her, Basil. Lud, Will could do it without thinking half a minute." Lady Jess knew her man, after all. It wanted only the one hint—that Will's powers of persuasion were superior to his own—to effect complete capitulation. Basil agreed to do as he was told.

Though he knew Miss Ashmore's citadel was not to be so easily stormed, he resolutely waylaid her after she'd left the schoolroom and was descending the stairs. He proceeded to offer such a variety of abject apologies, with every possible expression of penitence, as well as some quite impossible ones, that he soon had her laughing in spite of herself. Having obtained a rather choked pardon for his inexcusable mis
conduct of the previous day, he then went on to the trickier business of coaxing her to ride with him.

He'd intended to goad her into it. If she refused, he'd say she was afraid of him and incapable of keeping one mischievous gentleman in order. But those green eyes, sparkling with amusement, drove his planned scenario right out of his head.

"Will you ride with me then?" he asked. Seeing her face stiffen, he went on hurriedly, "Jess is furious that her brother's abandoned you for a pair of idiots, and she's determined that you're to teach him a lesson and I'm to be the means. And though I don't especially care to do him any favours, what choice have I when this is the only way I might have your company all to myself?"

Alexandra looked away and addressed her remarks to the bannister.

"I believe," she told that gleaming object, "this gentleman attempts to play on my wounded vanity and my unwounded vanity simultaneously."

"Of course I do. You know I'm the sort of man who stops at nothing."

"In that case, a sensible woman must forego your company, I think."

"Then don't be sensible, Miss Ashmore. I'd like nothing better than to ride with you. I've missed you horribly."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he urgently wished them back again. He heard them for what they were—Truth—and that wouldn't do at all.

Of course, she didn't believe him. Her face attested to that plain enough though she was still looking at the bannister. Yet, her reaction changed nothing. He
had
missed her horribly. Why else would he have given in so easily to Jess? Even now, as Alexandra hesitated, he was wondering what he would do if she refused. He was unable to invent a satisfactory answer.

"Well, I suppose you can't help it," she said finally, with a teasing smile that rather surprised him. "Though you momentarily
forgot to
mention it, the sun does rise and set on my fair countenance, and you can't sleep for thinking of me, and—what else?"

"And," he answered steadily, "if you don't come riding
with me, I shall be the most miserable wretch that ever lived."

"Oh, yes. I wonder how that slipped my mind."

"Then you will ride with me?" he persisted. What was she to do? He claimed to be sorry. He'd apologised in every way his fertile mind could invent. If she was willing to ride with others, wouldn't it look odd that she wouldn't ride with him? After all, he did claim it was Jess's idea, and one could always ask Jess about that. In short, after a little more hesitation, and a little more persuasion, Miss Ashmore convinced her mind to agree with her heart and consented.

Jessica pounced on him after luncheon, as soon as he was alone. "Well? Have you done it?"

"Yes."

"Good. I knew you could. Now you must keep her out until teatime—later, if you can manage it. That'll have Will in a frenzy."

"Until teatime! What do you expect me to do? Tie her to a tree?"

"Get lost. Have your horse throw a shoe. Have it throw you. Surely you can think of something."

"I can think of a great many things," he answered, his face a perfect study in wickedness. "However, I understood it was your brother you wanted shackled—not me."

"Oh, stow it, Basil. If you keep her sufficiently amused, she won't notice the time passing."

Without waiting for any more evil hints of the amusements he contemplated, Lady Jessica took herself off to her sitting room and the latest publication from the Minerva Press awaiting her therein.

"Going riding, are you?" Lady Bertram enquired as she bestowed a look of approval upon her goddaughter's wine-coloured habit.

She'd been right to send the girl to Madame Vernisse. The modiste had settled upon simple, clinging lines in rich colours, ignoring the fussy furbelows currently in fashion, since
they did not suit Miss Ashmorc at all. Yes, Alexandra would do very well.

"Y-yes," came the nervous answer. "With Mr. Trevelyan."

"I see."

"Unless you think I shouldn't."

"Whyever not? Can't have Farrington thinking he's the only male in Creation, can we? You're quite right. Do him good. And Basil, too. The boy's so fidgety lately, he's bound to get into trouble out of sheer boredom. You'll be doing him a favour—not that he deserves it—but you know that. I don't need to tell you to box his ears if he misbehaves."

Alexandra, who'd been critically examining her gloves, looked up quickly. "Misbehaves?"

"I mean, child, if he behaves in any way you don't like. Which, as I said, I don't need to tell you."

Giving her goddaughter a kindly smile, the countess took herself away.

If Alexandra neither noticed the time passing nor felt obliged to box the gentleman's ear that was probably because her companion was behaving so well. He was entertaining, as usual, but in such a friendly, nonthreatening way that she felt much in charity with him as they ambled in leisurely fashion about the enormous estate.

Estate was hardly the word. With its great expanses of field and meadow, its gently rolling lulls and rich valleys, its little ponds and waterways, the Hartleigh property was more like a small kingdom. The estate even had its own forest, an extensive stand of wood left much as Nature had made it, though the clear trails showed that the same care was given to this wilderness as to the rest of Lord Hartleigh's beautifully groomed domain.