The Impossible Ward (16 page)

“The stars are very bright tonight,” he tossed over his shoulder before wandering back to the center of the room. “It is my guess it will stay clear for a while now, so we may get in some riding at last.”

“Oh, delightful!” cried Lady Mauraugh enthusiastically. “I have not been on horseback since I arrived. Do say we might ride tomorrow, Justin.” The green-eyed beauty smiled at her host, confident of her powers of persuasion.

“Of course, Aurelie. I think we’d all welcome the opportunity of a good ride. Marianne, I have yet to see you put Ebony through his paces. Would you like to ride tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

The gentlemen agreed that an outing was a splendid idea, and the earl and Miss Carstairs were easily persuaded to join the riding party.

“And you will come too, will you not, Sophie?” coaxed Marianne with a smile for her friend.

“Oh, no! I mean, I thank you but I beg you will hold me excused.”

“Oh come, Sophie, be a sport,” said Andrew in wheedling tones. “I’ll see you get a nice placid mount. Gretel will carry you in armchair comfort. You’ll enjoy it.”

Painful color surged to the young girl’s cheeks but she kept her eyes on Marianne. “Another time perhaps. There were things I planned to do tomorrow.”

“Why not join the party, my dear,” inserted her father genially. “You’ve been cooped up inside for the better part of a sennight.”

Mrs. Huntingdon, after a swift glance at her daughter’s face and a speaking look for her husband, apologized gracefully for having already committed Sophia to some parish plans for the morrow. She began to make her thanks for a delightful evening, and the Huntingdons departed shortly thereafter. Once they had agreed on a time for the riding party, the earl and Miss Carstairs also took their leave.

Marianne turned to Lord Andrew. “Did Sophia never enjoy riding then, Andrew?”

“She was used to come with us on occasion. It is not that she rides badly, only that she tires more quickly than most.”

“Oh, then I apprehend she feared to hold us back tomorrow. We must plan a nice easy ride soon.”

“Yes, but not tomorrow,” said the countess gaily. “I am longing for a good gallop on Diamond.”

“Is that the white mare you brought with you?” inquired Lord Andrew with interest.

“Yes. Is she not beautiful? Justin selected her for me last year.”

Involuntarily Marianne’s eyes flew from Lady Mauraugh’s smiling countenance to her trustee’s face, but she could read nothing there. She realized suddenly how very tired she was and was deeply thankful that the marchioness suggested an early night for the riding party.

The sunshine streaming through her window next morning confirmed Lord Andrew’s weather prophecy. A combination of welcome sunshine and pleasurable anticipation lent spring to her movements. With the maid’s help she coiled her heavy black hair low on her neck to make room for the dashing black-plumed beaver hat. She paused for an instant to admire the snowy frills at her wrists and throat, and accepted her gloves and crop from the maid with a smile.

The party assembled at the main entrance scarcely ten minutes past the appointed hour, except for the countess who arrived just late enough for everyone to be mounted. She trilled a breathless apology and all eyes turned to survey the picture she made in her light blue riding dress, daringly styled a la Hussar with navy braided trim. The large hat in a matching navy blue with three curling white ostrich plumes set off her red-gold curls to perfection. Sir Martin dismounted to take the groom’s place in assisting her to mount and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Lord Andrew, mounted beside his brother’s large bay, noted the marquess’ attention on the three ladies of the party who were clustered together, waiting while the groom adjusted Lady Mauraugh’s stirrup. He drawled lazily:

“What would you wager on the chance of assembling three more beautiful females in one spot at the same time?”

“Not a groat,” was the prompt reply.

“All so different too,” mused Andrew, pursuing his theme. “Miss Carstairs sparkles with vitality, looking like a woodland creature herself in that leaf-green color. My Aunt Aurelie is of course the very embodiment of classical perfection, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, indubitably.”

“And then there is Marianne. How can one characterize Marianne in a few well-chosen words?” He paused to consider, but the marquess spoke first.

“Beauty without artifice,” he suggested quietly, his eyes on his ward’s face as she acknowledged a remark of Sir Martin’s with a quick appreciative smile.

“Very good, Justin,” approved his brother. “You have hit her off exactly. Marianne practices none of the usual female tricks on a fellow. A very comfortable girl to have around, do you not agree?” Whether the little smile on his brother’s lips signified agreement or not was left unspecified as the party began moving off. At first they kept more or less together, going at a slow pace and chatting amongst themselves, but this tame activity quickly palled on Lord Andrew.

“Marianne!” he called imperatively. “Let’s go!”

The girl needed no urging. She let Ebony have his head and the two rapidly left the laggards behind.

Lady Mauraugh was cantering beside the marquess, whose eyes were trained on the flying figures far ahead.

“Your ward rides very well, though her style is perhaps not best suited to Hyde Park,” she remarked sweetly.

“You ride well yourself and your style
is
suited to the Park.”

“Do you remember the wonderful rides we used to have, Justin?”

“I remember everything,” was the cryptic rejoinder. “Shall we give the horses some real exercise now?”

He turned to include the rest of the party in the invitation and soon they were all galloping over the hilly field. They caught up with Lord Andrew and Lady Marianne where they awaited them beside a gurgling stream. After the horses had drunk, the party moved off again, more slowly this time through a delightful stretch of trees whose bare branches allowed the sun’s warming rays to penetrate. The ranks had shifted again and now the earl and the marquess rode slightly ahead with Lady Marianne.

“Justin!”

At Andrew’s imperative call the three riders turned and saw a scene of confusion behind them. Sir Martin appeared to be supporting the collapsed figure of Lady Mauraugh with one arm while he controlled his own horse. Lord Andrew had the reins of the white horse, but his attention was on Miss Carstairs who was attempting to bring her horse under control again. Evidently he had taken exception to something on the path and was rearing.

The marquess, reacting immediately, galloped back, leaving the others to follow within seconds.

“What happened?” He brought Mountain right up to Miss Carstairs’ mount, leaving Andrew free to give Diamond’s reins to Sir Martin who was still supporting the countess. Lord Andrew jumped down and received the hatless figure into his arms a moment before his brother felt it safe to leave the excitable gray Miss Carstairs was riding.

Lady Mauraugh was indicating that she was able to stand, but it was Sir Martin who answered the marquess’ question in a voice full of puzzlement.

“She must not have seen that low hanging branch because she rode right into it.”

The countess was standing unaided now except for Andrew’s arm. One gloved hand was rubbing the back of her head lightly. Her color was good but she winced slightly at the touch and laughed shakily, “I don’t know how I can have been so stupid. I fear I was wool-gathering.”

The marquess removed her hand and gently explored her scalp with his own fingers. “Thank heavens the skin is not broken and there is merely a very slight swelling. Is there much pain?” he inquired, looking concernedly into the green eyes.

“No, at least just a very little, less than I deserve perhaps.” She glanced round at the others apologetically. “I am so sorry to spoil your ride with this stupid accident. Please do go on. Justin will see me home.”

“Yes, of course. Are you able to ride?” On receiving an affirmative answer, the marquess lifted her into the saddle amidst a chorus of comments from the others to the effect that they should all return together.

“Oh, please!” Lady Mauraugh looked distressed.

“I should feel much worse if I thought I had curtailed everyone’s pleasure. Please do go on.”

“I have had enough riding for today,” declared Miss Carstairs. “I’ll come along with you, my lord, in the event Lady Mauraugh becomes faint.”

He smiled his approval at her. Lady Mauraugh’s lips compressed.

“Really, I shall be quite all right with Justin,” she protested strongly. “I shall feel I have ruined your morning.”

“No need of that,” Lord Andrew declared bracingly. “The air has grown more chill in the last half hour. It is time for all the ladies to return to the Hall for a welcome cup of coffee.”

During this exchange Marianne had dismounted and retrieved Lady Mauraugh’s hat from the path. Evidently that had been the object that had frightened Claire’s mount. Back in the saddle, she was brushing the dirt from the white plumes when Claire edged close and said for her ears alone, “The only pain her ladyship is suffering at the moment is disappointment that her scheme failed in its object.”

The violet eyes widened and studied her cousin’s face, alight with malicious amusement. “What are you saying?”

“That she deliberately rode into that branch, o£ course, so she might lure Lord Lunswick away from the party.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I saw her,” replied Claire calmly. “I would wager my mother’s pearls that her hat is the only thing to sustain an injury.”

Marianne made no reply because the men had all remounted, but her cousin’s words had given her plenty of food for conjecture on the return trip, which was a strangely quiet one. When Lady Mauraugh attempted to initiate a conversation, the marquess suggested quite kindly that talking would only increase her headache. He rode almost silently by her side, and the others seemed to be absorbed in their own thoughts for there was very little conversation exchanged.

Marianne’s thoughts were concerned with the intelligence conveyed to her by her cousin. Though there wasn’t much for which she would take Claire’s word, she did not disbelieve her in this instance. Claire had been quite convinced in her own mind that the countess had contrived the accident, so Marianne was not alone in thinking the beautiful widow was hunting the marquess in earnest. He accorded her all the consideration due to a guest, but to Marianne’s eye he did not appear to seek out her company. Did this morning’s incident indicate desperation? The countess could not realistically extend her visit much past the Christmas season except at the specific request of the marquess. Despite her efforts there was only a superficial cordiality in the relationship with her sister-in-law, and little Richard’s presence at the Hall went virtually unnoticed though his need was the ostensible reason for the visit. As they entered the carriage drive to the main entrance, she decided it was time to shelve the question for the present. Doubtless all would come clear in due course.

She was to have those sentiments recalled strongly to mind later that same night. The marquess was hosting a sizable reception and all the neighboring gentry had been able to attend thanks to the clear weather. Two reception rooms were given over to accommodate the guests, but even so by eleven o’clock the crowd of constantly moving humanity had raised the temperature to uncomfortable levels in both. Lady Lunswick, unlike the majority of her contemporaries, did not fear the night air, but it would have been unthinkable to throw open a few windows for a moment to let in a cooling draft. Marianne, in the vicinity of her hostess momentarily, suggested she slip into her morning room and relax for a short time in private.

“For you are looking flushed, Ma’am, and I suspect you have the headache a trifle, or will have if you continue here.”

“You are quite correct, my child. I shall be glad when this evening is over, but hospitality is expected of us at this time of year. I find I no longer have the same pleasure in huge gatherings as when
I was younger. Let us step into the conservatory for a short spell. It will be cooler with all that glass, and I love that damp earthy smell.”

There was only one wall light near the entrance and the conservatory itself was lit only by the silvered moonlight. The two women stood close together, quietly savoring the damp cool air and odor of greenery for a time while their eyes adjusted to the relative gloom. Almost immediately, however, Marianne became aware of a murmur of voices somewhere to their left.

“There is someone here already,” she whispered, touching her companion’s arm lightly. “Perhaps we had best not...”

The whisper died in her throat as her seeking eyes made out two figures in intimate conversation. Even as she recognized the gentleman by the set of his shoulders, the white-garbed feminine form raised her hands to those same shoulders and her lips invitingly to his. For an instant the man seemed to hesitate, arms at his side, then he bent his head to hers and encircled the slight form in strong arms. The marchioness emitted a small gasp and stiffened under the hand that had tightened involuntarily on her arm. As she made an instinctive movement forward, Marianne gently but firmly drew her back through the doorway by which they had entered the conservatory. In the dim light of the single wall sconce they stared at each other. Noting the older woman’s pallor, Marianne led her unprotestingly down a corridor and, opening the door to her morning room, gently pushed her hostess inside. She closed the door softly, then sped to the room where the buffet was already spread. Casting a hasty eye over the food that would be served quite soon now, she settled for a claret cup, pouring a good-sized glass with hands that shook slightly.