Candice Hern (73 page)

She recognized the voice of Mr. Herriot as he hailed Terrence in a hearty greeting. Meg peeked over the top of the wooden stall door and saw the two gentlemen heading in her direction. She ducked quickly back inside the stall, hoping they would pass by without noticing her. She did not wish to engage in conversation with Sedge's cousin while she was clad in breeches. He had come upon her once before when she was in her working clothes, and he had looked at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. Despite the fact that he was Sedge's cousin and that Gram had been thoroughly charmed by him, Meg simply could not warm up to him. He generally wore a broad, congenial smile, and although it was similar to his cousin's engaging grin, it did not quite reach his eyes. And it was Sedge's eyes, after all, and the way they became a part of the whole expression, that made his smile so special.

"Do you mind if we have a brief word in private, Sir Terrence?" His voice carried clearly, even amidst all the noise of stable activity.

"If you do not mind using one of the empty stalls," Terrence replied. "I am afraid I cannot return to the house just now."

"This will do just fine," Mr. Herriot said, and Meg heard the hinge creak as the door to a nearby stall was opened.

She peeked out again and just caught Mr. Herriot's profile as he followed Terrence into the stall across and one over from Bristol's. It was the stall used by Cartimandua, a bay mare who was currently being exercised in the main courtyard. Mr. Herriot's eyes had flicked in her direction for an instant. Meg thought he might have seen her, but she quickly ducked back inside the stall and could not be certain.

"What did you wish to speak to me about, Herriot?" her brother asked, his clear voice carrying easily, as did all sound in these vaulted halls.

Meg was situated to hear every word, but had no wish to eavesdrop. They would probably speak of stable business, Mr. Herriot no doubt wanting to bargain for a bit of prime horseflesh. Whenever anyone asked for a private word with Terrence, it was bound to be awkward. She had no desire to be a witness to what would likely be an embarrassing transaction— an offer well below value, a request for credit, an unequal trade, or some such thing. Poor Terrence was frequently faced with that sort of business proposition from gentlemen who claimed they absolutely must have such-and-such a horse, but were temporarily without funds.

Meg never ceased to be amazed at how people seemed to forget that the Thornhill stables were a business. A very successful business, but a business nonetheless. If Terrence happened to raise sheep, no one would suggest that he give away the wool. But since he raised horses, many gentlemen who called themselves friends expected all sorts of special favors. The true gentleman, though, recognized the value of a horse and paid what it was worth.

Meg ignored the conversation of the two gentlemen and returned to Bristol to continue with his grooming. Now, here was a horse whose value one day would be something to be reckoned with. She held his bent leg gently with one hand as she scrubbed his hoof with a stiff brush to remove dirt and straw.

"This is a bit embarrassing, Sir Terrence, but it is about Miss Ashburton."

Meg's head jerked up at her name.
Me?

"My sister?"

"Yes," Mr. Herriot continued. "And my cousin. You see, it is just that I have noticed that the two of them spend a great deal of time together. Especially now that Sedge is up on crutches. I have often noticed him exploring the stables or other parts of Thornhill with Miss Ashburton at his side."

"She is no doubt acting as his guide, Herriot. She knows this place as well as I do."

"Of course, you are probably right. It is just that..." Mr. Herriot's voice trailed off, and Meg shamelessly scurried to the front of the stall, almost tripping over the grain tub in her haste. She did not want to miss this. "Oh, dash it all," he continued, "this is deuced awkward. He is my cousin, after all. Like a brother to me. But the fact is, Sedge is a trifle loose where women are concerned."

"Indeed?"

"I would hate to see your sister hurt, Sir Terrence. I... I simply thought I should warn you."

No, you thought to warn me.
He must have seen her after all. He had wanted her to overhear.

"You believe your cousin to be trifling with my sister's affections?" her brother asked in a steely voice.

"Not intentionally, no. Sedge is a gentleman, after all. It is just that they have spent so much time together, and I have once or twice caught a certain look between them. I just would not like for Miss Ashburton to get the wrong idea."

"What wrong idea would that be?"

Mr. Herriot sighed loudly. "I just hope she does not believe he is ... well, that he is courting her, that he means to make her an offer. He will not, Sir Terrence. I can assure you of that. Sedge enjoys the company of women. But he does not marry them. He will only make one sort of offer to a woman, and it is not of a proper nature, if you take my meaning."

"Are you telling me Lord Sedgewick is likely to offer Meg a slip on the shoulder?"

"Good God, no," Mr. Herriot replied in a horrified tone. "I only meant that neither you nor your sister should expect that he will make any kind of offer at all."

A strained silence followed that pronouncement while Meg tried to calm her breathing. It was what she knew to be true, but to hear the words spoken so bluntly had the effect of being punched in the stomach. She was being made, by Mr. Herriot's deliberately overheard words, to face the truth.

"I do not think you need worry about Meg," her brother said at last "Never in all her life has she shown an interest in any particular gentleman. And God knows she has met more than her share here at Thornhill." He chuckled softly. "Meg is not like other young women. As far as I can tell, she does not care for men in the usual way, and probably would not have the least notion how to go on if she did. She is fairly naive in that respect But I do not suppose that, at her age, she is likely to change. As you may have noticed, she traipses around Thornhill in breeches as though she were one of the stable hands. She has a much greater interest in horses than in romance, Herriot"

Meg covered her mouth to stifle a groan. Is that how Terrence viewed her? A hoyden with no interest in the opposite sex?

Not like other young women.

"Why, in the last few weeks," her brother continued, "she has spoken more of her blue roan than she has of the viscount. She will yammer on for hours about that young horse. As far as Lord Sedgewick is concerned, I can only ever recall her commenting on the progress of his recovery."

"But they do spend a great deal of time together," Mr. Herriot persisted.

"I think she simply enjoys his company," Terrence said. "He is a very friendly, easygoing sort of fellow."

"He is too charming by half," Mr. Herriot said with a laugh. "That is what concerns me. I would not want Miss Ashburton to misinterpret that engaging manner of his. It is just his way. He uses that smile to charm everyone he knows, from the sternest dowager to the most stiff-rumped old nob. I just don't want your sister to get her hopes up."

Get my hopes up? What hopes? I have no hopes.

Not like other young women.

Terrence laughed. "I think the only one around here with the sort of hopes you are implying is my grandmother. I believe she has decided Lord Sedgewick is the right man for Meg simply because he is taller than she is." Meg could almost see her brother grinning and shaking his head in resignation. "Poor Gram. She only wants to be helpful, but she really does not understand. Even Meg has been embarrassed by Gram's obvious tactics. That may be one of the problems, actually. The old girl leaves Meg alone with the viscount at every opportunity."

"Good God," Mr. Herriot exclaimed, "she is not trying to trap Sedge into some sort of compromising situation, is she?"

Oh, Lord.

Once again, Terrence laughed. "No, no, Herriot. Do not get yourself in a pucker. Gram only wants to leave them alone together so that Lord Sedgewick will get to know Meg better and, naturally, fall in love with her. The old girl's a romantic at heart, but she means no harm."

"I hate to disillusion your sweet grandmother," Mr. Herriot said, "but Sedge ain't the falling-in-love sort."

"I know," Terrence said. "But it is only Gram's notion, not Meg's. I do not believe you have to worry about any misunderstandings on Meg's part. But if you'd like, I will have a word with her."

"It might be a good idea," Mr. Herriot said. "Just in case."

Just in case what? In case I did not overhear every single word?

"By the way, Herriot," Terrence said over the sound of the creaking hinge, "did you ever tell your cousin about his carriage? About the cut axle?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Mr. Herriot replied, his voice along with his footsteps moving away. "He will not accept that it was deliberate. He prefers to believe that it was some kind of accidental break that happened while at the inn at Hawstead. Some freak slip of an axe, or some such thing. He refuses to believe it may have been intentional. He has dismissed the whole incident as a simple accident."

"Hmm," her brother said as they walked farther away from Bristol's stall. "And what do you think, Herriot?" They were out the stable door before Meg could hear a reply.

But she was much more interested in what had been said before. She leaned up against Bristol and gently stroked his lower neck and withers. The one good thing she had learned was that her own infatuation with Sedge was not apparent to Terrence. Of course, he did not believe she was capable of the same feelings and desires as other women. He probably did not think of her as a woman at all. Besides, he had always told her that her every thought or emotion was written clearly on her face. He teased her that she should never take up gambling, for there was no way she could ever bluff anyone. And her father had always said she was a terrible liar. That blasted fair skin!

So, if Terrence did not know she was head over heels in love with Sedge, then she must have at last learned to school her features. "Have I done that, Bristol?" she murmured as she continued to stroke the horse's neck. "Are you able to read my heart in my face?" Bristol shook his head and snorted, his ears pricking forward in interest. "Well, if you can, then perhaps Terrence simply is not looking anymore. Or perhaps he just does not recognize such an unexpected emotion in his heartless hoyden of a sister."

Bristol snorted again, and Meg reached up to stroke his ears, blinking furiously to clear her suddenly watery vision.

As for what she had learned about Sedge, it was nothing she had not already known in her heart. And though she could no longer control her feelings for him, she had never really had any expectations of an offer from him. Despite what Mr. Herriot may think, she had known all along that there was no hope for her as far as Sedge was concerned. His cousin's words only hardened her resolve against any such hopes.

It galled her that Mr. Herriot must think her such a green girl. Hearing his words—which she had no doubt she was meant to hear, and which rankled, despite the kindness and concern she knew to be behind them—made her realize how her actions might be misconstrued by others. Perhaps even by Sedge? It was true that she spent a great deal of time with him. She knew he would leave Thornhill soon enough, and she only wanted to be with him as much as possible.

Appearances aside, however, she was only making it more difficult for herself, more difficult to face their eventual parting. The solution, of course, was simply to spend less time with him. He had become very adept at getting about on crutches, wielding them with great aplomb and agility. He had even learned to negotiate the stairs without much difficulty. He no longer needed Meg to help him get around, if he ever had.

She gave Bristol one more affectionate pat and stood back, hands on hips, and considered the situation. Sedge would simply have to find other company as he hobbled about Thornhill. Gram or Terrence, or even Mr. Herriot. He did not need her. Not to get around the farm, or for anything else. She would remember— yes, Mr. Herriot, she would remember—not to harbor false hopes.

"I would never be so foolish as to hope, now would I, Bristol?" Meg walked around to the front of the stall, reached in her jacket pocket, and pulled out several pieces of carrot. She held the carrots out on the flat of her hand, and Bristol took them eagerly. "No, I would never be so foolish."

Bristol Blue nudged her with his nose and responded with a soft whicker.

* * *

"Much obliged, Pargeter," Sedge said as his valet helped him on with his coat.

Thank God for Pargeter. Now that Sedge was up and about once again, he was required to dress appropriately. Balancing on one leg, he would not have been able to manage on his own. But with Pargeter's able assistance, he felt reasonably presentable. Except for the wooden splint on the right leg, he looked every inch the country gentleman: buckskin breeches, bottle green coat, russet-colored waistcoat with thin gold stripes, crisp white shirt and cravat, gleaming top boots. Top boot, that is.

Damn, but he would be glad to finally be rid of the splint and wear two boots again. Ha! Just a little over a week ago, he was wishing he could get out of bed at all. Now that he had passed that milestone, he dreamed of wearing two boots. The doctor explained that he would be required to use the splint for a few more weeks. It helped keep the leg immobile so the fracture could heal more quickly and cleanly. He had threatened Sedge with a permanent limp if he did not keep the splint in place.

Sedge took the crutches handed to him by Pargeter and hauled himself up onto them. The valet scowled at the resulting destruction of the coat's perfect lines. While Sedge adjusted his position, Pargeter adjusted the coat. With a final nod of approval from his valet. Sedge hobbled across the room. Pargeter held the bedchamber door open and made one last survey of Sedge's appearance. As Sedge made his slow navigation of the hallway, he heard the bedchamber door close softly behind him.