Gayle Buck (10 page)

“Very well,” said Victoria, letting go her reluctance to trust him. The St. Claires could be charming when they chose to exert themselves, she thought. She smiled at Evelyn. “I shall if you will address me as Victoria.”

“Done, Cousin Victoria,” said Evelyn promptly. They smiled at one another, both relieved to have the misunderstanding cleared up and in the past.

“But I must tell you that you can be an extremely ill-mannered young man. And just now I quite felt for Mrs. Giddings,’ said Victoria.

Evelyn’s expression darkened. “It is only certain people who set me off, you know, and Margaret is one of the worst. I can’t abide her. She is sweetness itself when it suits her purposes, but only let someone come between her and her desires. Then she is a raging vixen.”

“I can well believe it,” said Victoria dryly, remembering her nocturnal visit.

Evelyn eyed her curiously. “You are not at all as I pictured Charles’s wife should be. You are quieter than ever he was. And you don’t fly into a pucker even when there is good reason.”

Victoria laughed at him. “You are a great too nonsensical for your own good, Evelyn. Spouses are rarely alike, and what has temper to do with anything?”

“Cousin Victoria, to survive in this family you must possess a hardy temper,” said Evelyn with a half smile.

“I am a survivor, Evelyn, never fear,” said Victoria. “But what of Lady Hortense? Surely she—”

“Believe me, for all my aunt’s good nature I have seen her cut up pretty stiff,” said Evelyn. “But now I am curious to hear what you have concluded about us, cousin. What do you think of St. Claire? Is he as arrogant as he pretends, do you think?”

“That topic I shan’t touch,” said Victoria, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

“Very wise of you, Lady Victoria,” said Lord Damion as he came up behind them. When they turned, he was satisfied by their expressions that Evelyn had made things right between them. He took the chair opposite Victoria. “One moment more and I might have heard something to my discredit.”

“Never to your discredit, my lord, but perhaps to your dismay,” said Victoria quickly, a hint of mischief in her brown eyes.

Evelyn whistled appreciatively. “You are well served, St. Claire!”

“But we shall see who has the last word, Evelyn,” promised Lord Damion. His young cousin gave a rude hoot and he laughed. “I feel unaccountably under siege. Allow me to gently disengage and tell you the reason I originally joined you. I intend to pay a visit to the brood mare that I mentioned to you yesterday, Lady Victoria, and I came to invite you to accompany me to the stables.”

“I would be honored, my lord. Give me but a few moments to put on my walking boots and I shall join you in the hall,” said Victoria, rising from the table. Evelyn and Lord Damion rose with her and bowed as she left the room.

Lord Damion looked at his cousin. “You are welcome to join us, Evelyn. It is one of Black Son’s mares.”

Evelyn shook his head, unsmiling. “I am no puppy to tag after you, St. Claire.”

“I did not think you were. I was under the impression that Black Son was one of your favorites,” said Lord Damion quietly, preparing to quit the breakfast room.

Evelyn instantly regretted his discourtesy. “St. Claire,” he began. Lord Damion turned and raised his brows. Under his dispassionate gaze Evelyn felt himself redden. He said brusquely, “Chatworth has seen Doro this morning and pronounces her in fine shape. Much obliged for your help yesterday.”

“I am happy to hear it, Evelyn.” Lord Damion bowed and continued on his way.

Evelyn St. Claire stared broodingly at the door where his tall cousin had disappeared. He did not understand why Lord Damion should set up his back, but he had always felt the same antagonism for his elder cousin.

He heard Lord Damion’s deep voice, answered by Lady Victoria’s quieter tones. Evelyn smiled, a wicked light leaping into his blue eyes. “Won’t Margaret be in a passion, though,” he remarked aloud, and began to whistle cheerfully.

When Victoria joined Lord Damion in the hall, she was wearing a heavy woolen cloak and sturdy boots. A footman had fetched an overcoat and a low-crowned beaver for Lord Damion and it was not long before he inquired if she were ready. Victoria assented and together they left the hall by way of a narrow side passageway. As they reached an outside door that led onto the back of the manor, Lord Damion remarked that the old structure was something of a rabbit warren.

He and Victoria made their way across the muddy yard to the stables. Inside the well-built stone building, the stable master was waiting. He touched his forehead in respect. “I thought ye might come, m’lord,” he said with a thick country accent. He glanced at Victoria.

“John, this is Master Charles’s wife, Lady Victoria. Her ladyship’s father bred horses when she was a girl, and when I told her of our patient, she expressed an interest in coming,” said Lord Damion.

The stable master nodded. “The mare be this way, m’lord.” He showed them to a stall where a big-bellied mare with a drooping head stood. The horse raised her nose at their approach, blowing anxiously.

“Oh, you beauty!” Victoria reached out to scratch the mare’s white blaze. She crooned softly to the beast and after a moment’s hesitation the mare allowed her muzzle to settle near Victoria’s shoulder, her ears swiveling to catch the soft Portuguese endearments.

Lord Damion’s brows rose in surprise at Lady Victoria’s fluid Portuguese. She sounded almost like a native to his untutored ears. But it was her instant rapport with the mare that astonished him most. “You have made a conquest, Lady Victoria,” he said softly.

“Aye, that she has,” agreed John, grudging respect on his craggy face.

Lord Damion turned to the stable master to confer on the mare’s condition. As he listened to John’s assessment, he watched while Lady Victoria looked the mare over, even checking her mouth and legs. He was amazed by her attentiveness and her ease of manner with the animal. He was intrigued by her skill and for the first time wondered about her background, for it was patent that she had spent much time around horses. He could not help but think that she’d surely had an odd upbringing for a gentlewoman.

“Aye, m’lord. She’ll drop the foal late in the week, I expect,” said John.

Victoria, who had listened with only half an ear to the men’s conversation, said, “I think it will be sooner. And unless I miss my guess she will have difficulties, for there is something about her stance and the passive expression in her eyes that bothers me,” she said, dusting off her hands as she came out of the stall. She saw their surprise and skepticism and smiled. “Believe me, gentlemen, I’ve experience enough to know. My earliest memories are of the foaling season and I have never yet missed a spring.” The stable master looked sharply at her, then at the mare.

Though he remained skeptical, Lord Damion acknowledged her with a bow. “Then all the more reason to keep a close watch on Starfire. I shall want word at the first signs, John.”

“Aye, m’lord.” The stable master touched his forehead and watched as Lord Damion escorted the stranger from the stables. He turned to stare speculatively at the mare. “For all she’s a female, her ladyship looked a knowing one. Mayhap ye told her ladyship someit ye kept from me, heh?”

Chapter Eleven

As Lord Damion and Victoria left the stables, she said, “The mare is obviously bred for speed and her foals must surely reflect that. I should very much like to see the stud if I may.”

“Black Son is kept in the west field. We will ride out one day to watch him. He, too, is a swift animal.” Lord Damion glanced down at her. “I am impressed, my lady. Your father obviously taught you well and instilled in you a great love for horses.”

“He was a remarkable man. And he had able help in his friend, Carlos Silva y Montoya,” said Victoria.

Lord Damion thought he detected a note of warmth in her voice. “Were you close to this Carlos Silva y Montoya?” he asked curiously.

“Carlos was my guardian after Father died. I met Charles through him,” said Victoria. Her companion raised startled brows. She saw that they were not returning directly to the manor house. “Where are we going, my lord?”

“I wished to determine if the flood has dropped since yesterday. We will be able to see the crossing once we are clear of these trees.” Lord Damion did not add that he was reluctant to return directly to the manor because he had an overwhelming desire to be alone a little while longer in her company. She interested him as no other woman had done for some time and Lord Damion was in the habit of indulging his own whims.

They soon emerged from the shelter of the trees that protected the manor house. The wind was brisker in the open and Victoria was glad of her heavy cloak.

She and Lord Damion stood at the top of an incline. The ground before them sloped away to meet a rolling brown stream swollen past its banks. On her left the carriage track curved away from the manor down to the stream, where it abruptly disappeared and then reappeared on the far side. Victoria realized that this must be the infamous crossing.

Lord Damion was examining the same point with keen eyes. He remarked, “I spoke several times to the earl of putting down a short bridge at that point. But he was adamant against it. He said that he preferred the old ways best, even if it meant needless inconvenience.”

“Charles gave me to understand that his father could be difficult,” said Victoria delicately.

Lord Damion threw her a glance, understanding that she was recalling more than one past statement. “Perhaps, but you must also realize that there was wrong on both sides. Even before Charles left to join the army he and his father often had falling outs. I was already with Sir John Moore when the break between them began to occur, but my mother wrote me about it. Apparently Charles inherited much of his father’s strength of will and that, coupled with a wild streak, did much to divide them. Yet Lord Robert remained sincerely attached to his son.”

“Yes. And I know Charles, too, felt keenly for his father. Even in his blackest moments he had a grudging respect for him. But pride forbade him to return as a supplicant for Lord Robert’s forgiveness,” said Victoria. “I believe that must be why Charles corresponded with his lordship’s solicitor. He knew that the solicitor would pass on the contents of the letters and it was his way of giving a glimpse of his life to Lord Robert.”

Lord Damion stared at her. “I did not know that Charles corresponded with anyone here in England.”

“I am not at all surprised. I did not learn of it until yesterday when Sir Aubrey informed me of Charles’s correspondence,” said Victoria. “I was naturally amazed, for Charles never mentioned it.”

“My uncle has a disconcerting habit of learning more than he ought, and he sometimes uses his knowledge for his own ends,” said Lord Damion dryly. Victoria threw him a startled glance, wondering if he referred to Sir Aubrey’s avowed familiarity with Lord Robert’s will and his scheme to have them marry.

Lord Damion was unaware of her surprise. His attention was trained on a lone horseman following the track below. “Brave Chatworth. I fear the crossing is still too flooded for any but those on horseback. I’ll wager that we do not see the solicitor for some days yet.”

“I suppose Mrs. Giddings’s dresser will also not be seen for yet a while,” said Victoria, thinking of that lady’s ill humor.

“The second carriage bearing the ladies’ maids and their baggage, not to mention Doro’s two little dogs, turned back last night for the village. After witnessing their mistresses’ plight I doubt that they will be in any great hurry to brave the crossing,” said Lord Damion. He grinned suddenly at Victoria. “May I assume that Margaret was distressed by her maid’s continued absence?”

Victoria chuckled and a mischievous twinkle lit her dark eyes. “Quite, my lord. And Evelyn’s odd sense of gallantry did not make matters better. He remarked that rusticating became her.”

Lord Damion gave a shout of laughter. “Breakfasting early has its advantages,” he observed. He noticed that she shivered. “I believe the wind is growing stronger. Shall we return to the manor, Lady Victoria?”

Victoria agreed to it and they walked back in companionable silence. She felt more in charity with him than she had at any time since their first meeting. She glanced up at his lean face. Victoria thought it would not be difficult to like Lord Damion if he were to remain as approachable as he had been that morning.

When she and Lord Damion reentered the hall, they found Sir Aubrey setting up a shout.
 
He glared at Lord Damion. “There you are, sirruh! I was just sending for you.” He thrust a crumpled sheet at his nephew. “Chatworth brought that around with him. I have but just finished it. What do you make of it?”

Lord Damion calmly scanned the closely written sheet and looked up. “It appears straightforward enough. The solicitor writes us that he will join us when he is able.”

Evelyn, Margaret, and Lady Hortense had all been brought to the hall by Sir Aubrey’s angry voice. Margaret spared a dagger glance for Victoria when she saw her with Lord Damion and quickly positioned herself near that gentleman’s elbow.

Sir Aubrey pointed a shaking finger at the offending letter. “The solicitor mentions another beneficiary to Lord Robert’s estate in his letter, Damion. And he proposes to contact this upstart before he comes to preside over the reading. The only heirs to Lord Robert are already gathered under this roof!” There were general exclamations and excited speculations.

Amid the confusion Victoria quietly excused herself to Lord Damion and made her way upstairs to change out of her boots. Lord Damion looked after her thoughtfully, puzzled by her seeming lack of interest in the situation when even Margaret Giddings, who had nothing to gain, was expressing an opinion.

When Victoria returned downstairs some minutes later, she found Lady Hortense alone in the sitting room, quietly embroidering her altar cloth. Lady Hortense smiled at her in welcome. “We have had such excitement, have we not? At the last Evelyn could stand no more and has gone out riding and Margaret went up to sit with Doro. As for poor Sir Aubrey, he is still beside himself. I was never more grateful than when Damion took him off to the library for private speech.”