Lady Hawk's Folly (8 page)

She nodded. Mr. Troutbeck was very efficient. She knew she had been extraordinarily lucky to find him when old Mr. Brewer had announced his intention to retire after the matter of Lady Bridget’s redecorating had been settled. But she
had
found Mr. Troutbeck, and she had likewise convinced the crusty Mr. Brewer to stay on long enough to train him. Troutbeck could run the place now, with or without her, but he knew perfectly well that she liked to know about everything that went on. He was her retainer, and she felt betrayed by the fact that he had so readily confided in Hawk without at least waiting for her to join them. She tried to explain her feelings to Ramsay without sounding like a child or an idiot, but she could not feel that she had succeeded very well, because for once he seemed unable to comprehend her point of view.

Indeed, he was more taken up with his own concerns. After some moments of halfheartedly attempting to make her understand that Hawk was not usurping her powers but merely asserting his rightful authority, Ramsay asked hesitantly if she had chanced to mention his intention to spend the Season in London with them.

“For he hasn’t said a word, you know, not even to ask why I’m not at school now.”

“Well, I haven’t told him, though Harry may have done so,” Mollie replied.

“He hasn’t. Told me that whatever I thought of him, he wasn’t in the habit of carrying tales.”

Mollie smiled. “I hope you begged his pardon for doubting him yesterday. You ought to have known he’d never betray me to anyone—and certainly not to Hawk, whom he scarcely remembers.”

“So he told me when I did beg his pardon. Top-lofty little beggar had the nerve to look down his nose at me as if he had to decide whether or not he’d
accept
my apology. Say what you will, Mollie, that brat
needs
a term or two at Eton. They’ll soon teach him proper respect for his elders!”

She chuckled, her usual good humor restored, and sat down to chat with him for a few moments before getting on with her normal duties. They discussed the advisability of mentioning Ramsay’s decision to Hawk at once and came to the conclusion that perhaps the moment was not the most propitious one. In any event, the matter was taken out of their hands some hours later at the dining table when Ramsay asked Hawk if he’d like to ride with him to look over the cut through the western ridge, which led into East Sussex, through Cross-in Hand, to the Eastbourne highroad.

“You won’t want to drive all the way to Hurst Green and up the Hastings Road unless it is absolutely necessary,” the younger man pointed out.

“An excellent notion,” Hawk agreed approvingly as he helped himself from a platter of carved mutton. He passed a boat of mint sauce to Lady Bridget, on his right, then turned back to his brother. “By the bye, I have hesitated to ask while others were about, but I never find you alone. Have you been rusticated?”

“Oh, no,” Ramsay answered carelessly, flicking a glance at Mollie, “nothing like that.” He turned to accept a dish of boiled squash from the serving maid, and a small silence fell. Lady Bridget seemed preoccupied with her serviette, and Mollie was glad Harry was dining with Mr. Bates in the schoolroom.

“Perhaps you will elucidate,” Hawk prompted gently.

“Oh, well, I had meant to discuss the matter with you, of course, since you are here,” Ramsay replied, still carefully offhand, “which is one reason I suggested riding to the cut.”

“The matter is one of some delicacy, then?” Hawk’s eyebrows lifted, and Ramsay moved a little awkwardly in his chair.

Mollie couldn’t stand it any longer. “You are making a great piece of work about nothing, the pair of you,” she said tartly. “Ramsay has merely decided that the time has come for him to acquire a touch of town bronze, sir. He came down when the half ended, and he does not intend to return until Michaelmas term begins.”

“I see,” Hawk said, looking at his brother. Ramsay met the look, but there was a trace of guilt in his eyes, and wariness, too. “You don’t think that perhaps you have been a trifle hasty?”

“You cannot send him back now,” Mollie put in. “The term is two weeks gone. Moreover, I see nothing wrong with his decision. Perhaps you will say that since the long vacation begins the first week of June this year, that will be soon enough for him to see a bit of London, but it is not, sir. He is quite old enough to have an entire Season—yes, and to go to Brighton with us in August as well. Two or three weeks in June would not answer the purpose at all.”

“What purpose is that? Do you wish to find him a bride, my dear? I feel sure he is too young for that.”

“Oh, yes,” interjected Lady Bridget hastily. “Indeed, he is, Mollie, for a gentleman, you know, must have time to learn about the world before he takes on a wife.”

“Exactly so,” Mollie agreed, “and he can learn a great deal in London.”

“You don’t think he ought to finish his education first?” Hawk asked her.

With a light gesture Mollie waved aside the benefits of an Oxford education. “There is nothing he cannot learn later when he returns at Michaelmas,” she said grandly.

“Then there is nothing further to be said,” Hawk replied. “When do you wish to ride, Ramsay?”

Astonished to think his brother meant to make no further comment on the issue, Ramsay stammered out that he would be ready as soon as they had finished their meal. Conversation turned to other matters after that, and Mollie was left to her own thoughts.

She had seen Ramsay look at her oddly when she had taken up the cudgels in his defense, and she knew he was remembering that she had raised a good many objections to his decision only two weeks before when he had turned up at the castle. But that had been different, she told herself. Besides, the matter had been decided before Hawk ever put his foot over the threshold. It occurred to her that her husband had given in rather easily, and she wondered if perhaps he meant to say more to Ramsay during their ride. However, there was nothing she could do to stop him if that was his intent, so she turned her thoughts to the list of things still left to be accomplished before the family could leave for London.

When she went upstairs after the meal, she found Cathe carrying clothes out of her bedchamber. “What on earth! Where are you taking all this lot?”

“’Is lordship said to move your things to the room next to ’is, m’lady. ’Tis the old mistress’s suite, and ’e says it be more convenient for ye, now ’e be in the master’s rooms.”

“Oh, he did, did he? And I suppose I’ve nothing to say in the matter.” But she could scarcely order Cathe to ignore Hawk’s direct command, and he had already departed with Ramsay, so she spent the next two hours helping to arrange her belongings in the new rooms. The time passed quickly, and at five o’clock Mollie drew a hand across her brow and realized she was hot, sweaty, and tired. She had spent nearly the entire afternoon sifting through her wardrobe, taking the opportunity to select those things that needed mending and those that could be discarded. Now she gave a long sigh.

“I’ve got to go for a walk, Cathe, before I begin snapping. I don’t want to look at another gown.” The girl only grinned at her, so Mollie grabbed up a light shawl and flung it over her shoulders before hurrying down the back stairs, through the postern gate to the causeway. She saw a horseman approaching and recognized Hawk at once. He was alone. Wondering where Ramsay had gotten to, she raised her hand to wave. But he was not watching her. Suddenly, he stopped and slid out of the saddle, dropping the rein to the ground. Leaning over the low wall edging the causeway, he soon stood up again, dragging a wriggling, dripping Harry from the lake water. Mollie started to smile, then realized that Hawk’s intention, at the very least, was to give the boy a good shaking. Grabbing her shawl firmly in one hand, she started to run toward them.

“Stop that!” she cried. “Leave him alone!”

Hawk glanced up at her, then turned to face her with Harry still firmly in his grasp. “Does he make a habit of swimming off the causeway alone?” he demanded when she was near enough so that he didn’t have to shout.

“He is an excellent swimmer,” she said defensively. “He has swum off this causeway since he was quite small.”

“Alone?” Hawk repeated, his gaze direct.

Mollie looked away. “He is an excellent swimmer,” she repeated. “I see no reason for you to be so cross with him.”

Harry was standing silently beside his brother. He looked now from one adult to the other, and when Hawk turned that steely gaze upon him, the boy bore up well under it.

“Well, Harry, do you make it a habit to swim here alone?”

There was a small silence. Hawk waited. Finally, Harry blinked and said, “No, sir. I am supposed to have someone with me. I just didn’t think about it this afternoon, because I meant just to jump in and out again, and I thought it wouldn’t matter just this once. Only then it felt good, and I just stayed. I won’t do it again.”

“Did Mollie make the rule?”

Harry shifted his feet, then glanced apologetically at Mollie. “Yes, sir.”

“Very well, Harry. Go up and get dry clothes on now. And don’t ever let me catch you doing such a foolish thing again unless you want to feel my hand where it will do the most good.”

“Yes, sir. I-I mean, no, sir!” And Harry fled, clearly grateful at having gotten away so easily.

Mollie looked at her husband. “All right, so he’s not supposed to swim alone. It just made me angry to see you shaking him.”

“I meant to do more than shake him,” Hawk told her. “Swimming alone is a dangerous thing, Mollie, and I’ve a strong notion this isn’t the first time. That boy wants a stronger hand, but at least he’s got integrity. You’ve taught him that much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Harry,” she said firmly.

“No,” he agreed. “Nothing that a little maturity won’t cure. Will you walk with me?”

She nodded, and picking up the dangling reins, he walked beside her to the stableyard. His groom was waiting. Hawk told the man to let Lord Ramsay’s Bill know that his lordship would be along directly.

“He stopped off to speak to Haycock,” Hawk told Mollie. “Seems he’d said he wanted to go hunting for poachers tonight. I discouraged it.”

“Oh, good,” Mollie said without thinking. “I knew he had hoped to do so, but I couldn’t help thinking it would prove to be a dangerous business.”

“Just so. Mollie, why do you persist in fighting me?” he asked as he held open the door into the rear hall.

“I don’t persist,” she muttered, not looking at him. “You just take too much upon yourself too soon.”

He was silent, but his hand was at her waist, and she made no objection when he guided her to the stairway. Then Hawk said, “You were angry this morning when you found me with Troutbeck. Why?”

They had started up the stairs, and she held her skirt, concentrating upon the steps in front of her, feeling the resentment rising again even as he spoke. “You should have spoken with me first,” she said, and the fact that the words sounded petulant in her own ears did nothing to assuage her temper.

“I thought you would rather sleep. Can Troutbeck not tell me all that I need to know?”

“That’s not the point.”

They had reached the gallery, and they turned toward the master’s suite. “Is it not important that I learn as much as I can, as quickly as I can? Hawkstone is my birthright, after all.”

“So it is, my lord,” she said, her anger increasing, “but that does not give you the right to treat it like some toy, tossing it aside when it bores you, then snatching it back when someone else is playing with it.”

“I haven’t!”

“You have!” She pulled away from him, turning to face him, hands on her hips. “You have done just as you pleased, sir, while the people you left behind till the whim struck you to return—ah, no, till you were
ordered
to return—well, those people’s feelings ought not to be trodden upon by you so callously now! You have condemned Ramsay’s behavior, my behavior, and now poor Harry’s. You come home and just think you can take over everything as though you’d never—”

“Enough, Mollie!” Hawk snapped. Then, when he realized Cathe was standing upon the threshold of Mollie’s new bedchamber, staring openmouthed at them, he controlled himself with a visible effort. Pushing open the door to the sitting room that connected the two bedchambers, he looked sternly down at his wife. “Step inside, madam.”

C
ASTING A GLANCE AT
the fascinated Cathe, Mollie lifted her chin and swept past her husband. She heard the door snap shut behind her.

“By God, Mollie,” Hawk said furiously, “you’d be well served after that little display if I put you straight across my knee.”

“You’d not dare,” she snapped back, conscious of a devout hope that she was right as she turned to face him.

“Wouldn’t I?” He stayed near the door, his big hands firmly at his sides. “You can have no notion of how tempting the thought is, or you’d be doing your best to pacify me.” Her chin rose a fraction higher, and he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his tone was more even. “Do you think I don’t know how you feel? I’ve been well nigh wallowing in guilt, believing I deserved your anger. I was wrong to stay away so long. I know that. But it’s done. It’s over. And I’ve come home, where I belong. I let you tear a strip off me in Troutbeck’s office, and I let you have your say about Ramsay, and even about Harry. That boy knew what he deserved as well as I did, but I let him off to please you.” He paused, taking a step toward her. “I want to please you, Mollie. Truly, I do. But I’ve been so conscious of my guilt and so worried about your anger that in a day’s time I’ve nearly lost sight of who I am. If I continue bowing and scraping to your every wish, trying to make amends for the past, I soon won’t be able to stomach the sight of myself in the glass when I shave.”

“But you don’t—”

“Hush,” he said, gently now. Moving forward, he placed both hands lightly on her shoulders. “You were right about one thing, and that is that we must give ourselves time. We can’t expect our world to right itself in a day or a week. If I had strutted in here and demanded sweeping changes, I’d have set up everyone’s back. But I haven’t done that, and I don’t intend to. Nonetheless, you might as well acknowledge, to yourself at least, that if I did intend such a course, it would be well within my rights.”