A Scandalous Secret (7 page)

‘Nevertheless, it was much appreciated. Though I am not certain that Lord Maples saw it in such a favourable light.’

Elizabeth raised her brows. ‘Oh? Was Oswald displeased by my desertion?’ she queried, all innocence. ‘How unfortunate.’

‘Heartless wretch!’ Dorinda said, laughing. ‘He was woefully downcast at the loss of your company. I have never seen a man more smitten than he.’

‘Sapskull,’ her sister commented even more heartlessly. Then, realizing something, she continued, ‘By the by, where
is
the man?’

‘I persuaded him to take a stroll in the garden, pending your arrival. He will be here soon, no doubt.’

‘No doubt. Indeed, the gentleman sticks closer than a mustard plaster - and is just about as agreeable. Now is the summer of our content made dreary winter by this blight of Wiltshire.’

‘You are impossible, Lizzy.’

‘It is too bad,’ Elizabeth murmured, ignoring Dorinda’s last remark, ‘that I am no longer required to nurse Selina. But spending time with Nicky should serve as well to keep the viscount at bay. Oswald has not much use for my son, I fear.’

Dorinda looked quite shocked. ‘I’m sure you are mistaken. Why, Lord Maples seemed very much interested in Nicky’s welfare.’

‘Oh, he is,’ Elizabeth declared, crossing her arms and eyeing her sister mockingly. ‘He positively dotes on Nicky - at a distance.’

‘How horrid you are, Lizzy. But I cannot believe it. Perhaps he is not precisely at ease in the presence of children. Few gentlemen are. But who,’ she insisted, ‘could
not
adore Nicky?’

Elizabeth only smiled. ‘Tell me, where is my irresistible offspring at the moment?’

Dorinda could not supply the answer. She had not seen him all morning. Nor had Lord Maples, who joined them less than a minute later. Elizabeth was aware of an instant and perfectly irrational feeling of anxiety. This grew when she discovered that none of the household servants had seen Nicky since he had come down for an early breakfast. At last, one of the stablehands recollected seeing the little ‘un walking across a nearby field that morning, with what looked to be a fishing-rod over his shoulder.

This news only increased Elizabeth’s agitation. How could Nicky have gone off like that without telling anyone? Oswald remarked, with unabashed complacency, that it was just what he had been saying all along: the boy needed more discipline, and this was a sure sign.

Elizabeth looked at him with acute dislike. How she would love to take that elegant neck-cloth - which his valet had so carefully arranged
en cascade -
and strangle him with it!

But there was really no time for such pleasant pursuits. There was a pond close by on the estate, and she immediately set out for it on foot. Nicky could not swim. What if he had fallen in and... ? Her mind recoiled from the thought.

Accompanied by two servants and the omnipresent Oswald, they found the pond - but no sign of Nicky. They did, however, discover an elderly man who had been collecting rocks all morning, needing to repair a low stone wall bordering the adjacent field. If anyone had come by, he informed them, he would have seen them. But he had seen no one.

This only made matters worse. For if Nicky had not been here, where was he?

* * * *

The only person who could have answered this question, aside from the missing earl himself, was a solitary angler at a small stream almost a mile away.

Dominick Markham had risen before daylight, dressed himself hastily, collected his fishing-gear and set out across the open fields. The spot he sought was actually at the very edge of the property belonging to Sir Alastair Barrowe. But he had cast his line at that particular stream more than once, and Alastair had assured him that he was welcome to fish there at any time. With Alastair away in London, there was little probability that he would encounter anyone from Merrywood.

Making his way through the underbrush, he soon found the grassy bank. Settling himself down in the shade of a young beech tree, he baited his hook and prepared to wait. He had plenty to reflect upon - the chief object being a certain countess. And while he contemplated what his manner towards her should be at their next meeting, he could relieve his emotions somewhat by doing to a fish what he might like to have done to her.

He had been there for some time and caught nothing better than a small chub, which he returned to the stream in disgust. Nevertheless, as the sun rose ever higher in the sky, the peace of his idyllic surroundings began insensibly to soothe his mind. Very likely he would have fallen fast asleep had he not become suddenly aware that he was being closely observed by a pair of curious violet eyes.

Dominick had seen eyes of that particular shade only once before, and he knew without question that he beheld the countess’s son. He thought, with a stab of unaccustomed pain, how he had once dreamed of the sons his Bess would bear him if....

‘Good morning, sir,’ the little fellow said with engaging solemnity.

‘Good morning,’ Dominick replied, with equal gravity. Then, spying the pole in the boy’s hand, ‘You are a fellow angler, I perceive.’

The youthful brow furrowed a little. ‘Well,’ Nicky admitted grudgingly, ‘I have never actually been fishing before. My Uncle Alastair promised to take me, but he is not here, and I grew tired of keeping to the house - especially with that silly Oswald Gulbridge around all the time.’

Mr Markham wisely - and with great effort - refrained from laughing at this artless speech. ‘I understand you.’ He remained perfectly serious. ‘But somehow one does not expect a great deal from a fellow named
Oswald,
does one? A horrid name, don’t you think?’

‘It is quite as silly as he is.’ Warming to his theme, Nicky added expansively, ‘He wants to marry Mama, you see. But that will never happen. Have you caught anything yet?’

The abrupt change in topic was almost Dominick’s undoing. What would this amazing child say next?

‘Nothing worth the keeping,’ he said, in answer to the boy’s question. ‘But I do not believe that we have been properly introduced, sir. I am Dominick Markham, at your service.’

‘I,’ Nicky said with great dignity, ‘am Nicholas Lonsdale, Seventh Earl of Dansmere. But’ - with a mischievous grin - ‘I’d much rather you call me Nicky.’

From that moment, they were the best of friends. Indeed, Mr Markham found the charm of the young earl quite irresistible. He liked children well enough, but few had come much in his way. He was both pleased at how quickly Nicky accepted his companionship and surprised at what pleasure he found in spending a few hours with him.

Nicky, he soon learned, was a loquacious little fellow. His innocent observations on the family circle at Merrywood were unconsciously revealing, though not at all uncomplimentary, and Dominick’s estimation of his neighbours rose as he viewed them through the eyes of a child. He found it difficult, however, to imagine the countess in this rustic setting. Surely she was more at home in the fashionable society afforded by London?

With more patience than he had known he possessed, Dominick gave the boy his first lesson in the art of angling. Nicky proved to be a zealous and precocious student, never at a loss for a pertinent question. After scarcely more than an hour, he had caught his first carp, with only a little tactful assistance on Dominick’s part. The earl was elated, and justifiably proud of his achievement. If the truth be known, so was Dominick.

‘Mama will be surprised!’ Nicky exclaimed.

‘And very pleased, too, I’ll be bound.’ Or would she be?

Nicky stood up with obvious reluctance. ‘I think I should be going home now. Nobody knows I am here, and Mama may be worried.’

The little imp! Dominick chuckled softly in spite of himself. He should have guessed that the child had stolen away. They would never have allowed him to come here alone. Probably the whole of Merrywood was in an uproar by this time, wondering what had happened.

‘Can you find your way back by yourself?’ Dominick asked. Ought he to accompany the lad? After all, the boy was very young and the house was almost a mile away.

‘I found my way here, didn’t I?’ Nicky was obviously none too pleased at the suggestion that he might need assistance - as though he were a mere babe!

‘Indeed you did.’ Dominick smiled. The young earl seemed well able to take care of himself, and on second thoughts, it was unlikely that Nicky’s mama would look favorably on his friendship with her son. ‘You’d better get along then, or you will be lucky to escape with no more than a severe scold.’

Nicky grinned again. ‘At least I have my fish.’

‘Perhaps that will pacify your mama. But I would not count upon it.’

‘Well, goodbye, sir.’ Nicky extended his hand. ‘And thank you. It was great fun, was it not?’

‘The most enjoyable day I have spent in a long time,’ Dominick said, shaking the little hand heartily. ‘It is very rare to find such a congenial fellow angler.’

‘May we do it again sometime, Mr Markham?’

‘Anytime you like. But I think next time you had better tell your mother your plans.’

‘Very well,’ he agreed, apparently considering the request perfectly reasonable. ‘You must come and visit us tomorrow, sir. Perhaps we can go fishing, if the weather is good.’

Before Dominick could frame a reply, the boy had scrambled up the bank and was trotting across a small clearing in the general direction of Merrywood, his catch clutched tightly in his hand. Obviously, he did not conceive that there could be a negative response to his invitation.

* * * *

Elizabeth was very nearly crazed with worry. Returning from the pond, she paced up and down the terrace while several of the male servants ventured to try the stream which ran through the northern extremity of the estate. Her agitation increased with every passing minute, as she continued to imagine the most shocking possibilities concerning her son’s fate.

When she saw him walking briskly across the grass with his a pole and a horrid-looking fish, she could scarcely credit her senses. For some time she simply stopped and stared at him in blank amazement.

‘Mama! Mama! I have caught a fish!’

His triumphant cry released her from her frozen stupefaction. She rushed forward to meet him as he reached the top of the shallow flight of steps which led up to the terrace.

‘Where in Heaven’s name have you been, young man?’ she demanded, grasping his shoulders tightly as her relief melted into anger. ‘We have been looking everywhere for you!’

‘Nicky!’ Dorinda, coming up behind Elizabeth, was equally relieved, though not so irate as her sister. ‘Thank God you are safe.’

There was a world of contempt for the stupidity of grown-ups in his response. ‘Of course I’m safe, Aunt Dorrie. I only went down to the stream to catch some fish.’

‘And seem to have been quite successful.’ His aunt leaned forward to inspect his smelly prize.

‘Mr Markham says it’s a carp,’ he declared, holding it aloft for her to obtain a better view.

‘Mr Markham!’ Elizabeth all but shrieked the name.

‘Mr Markham?’ Dorinda asked more quietly.

‘Yes.’ Nicky addressed them both with perfect aplomb. ‘He helped me - a little. He’s my friend.’

His friend.
Elizabeth was almost on the verge of hysterics at this newest revelation. Of all people for Nicky to have encountered! What malevolent fate had engineered such a meeting? Or had Dominick himself had a hand in this? If her chickens were indeed coming home to roost, she feared that she was about to become the proprietress of the most populous hen-house in England.

‘Well,’ Dorinda was saying, ‘we may at least be thankful that he was with someone so unexceptionable.’

That was hardly the term Elizabeth would have used to describe Mr Markham. Clutching at a large marble garden urn for support, she barely managed to suppress a shudder.

‘Dearest Lizzy, you are looking quite faint,’ Dorinda said, her face mirroring her concern. ‘It has been a most trying morning.’

Elizabeth ignored the steadying hand her sister offered, directing her attention instead towards her son. ‘The next time you decide to attempt such an expedition, Nicholas, you will kindly remember to ask my permission first,’ she said sternly.

The little boy’s glance fell before the harsh light in the eyes so like his own. ‘Yes, Mama,’ he muttered.

‘Now you will go to your room and remain there until it is time for supper. There will be no sweetmeat for you tonight, either.’ She paused, expecting some response; but his head remained bowed. ‘You may be thankful to have escaped with so light a punishment.’

He looked so woefully crestfallen that Elizabeth’s determination was shaken for an instant. But no, she must remain firm. He must be made to realize the danger of such thoughtless pranks, and the best way to do that was to discipline him. The punishment was mild enough, in all conscience. Still, she knew that it was more than she normally employed. She rarely raised her voice to him, and had never had recourse to a spanking. No doubt it was the unusual severity of her scolding which caused him to swallow suspiciously before he could command himself well enough to reply.

‘What shall I do with my fish?’ he asked at last.

‘You had best give it to Cook,’ his aunt told him, trying to hide her amusement. ‘I am sure she will be grateful for so fine a catch.’

‘Thank you, Aunt Dorinda,’ he said, taking his leave of them with great dignity.

‘Poor boy,’ Dorinda said when he had gone. ‘He is not accustomed to such scolds from you, Lizzy. And he was so proud of his fish.’

‘He could well have drowned today,’ Elizabeth insisted stubbornly.

‘Well, all’s well that ends well. Thank Heaven for Mr Markham—’

‘Who should have had the sense to bring Nicky home instead of encouraging him in his tricks!’

Dorinda seemed quite surprised at the sharpness of this retort. ‘I am sure Mr Markham meant no harm. Doubtless he did not fully understand the situation. He is not used to children, I daresay -having none of his own.’

Elizabeth felt an unaccustomed and most unwelcome sensation in her breast at these words. No
children of his own….
Oh, how wrong Dorinda was!