The Virtuous Ward (Sweet Deception Regency #5) (18 page)

"Never fear, poppet. I shouldn't approve but I have to admit it pleases me to find you have such a generous heart." He watched the flush of color rise in her cheeks at his words. He was used to the fact that she was a beauty but there was an almost incandescent glow to her skin that quite took his breath away. He shook his head to dispel the magic he felt in her presence. "I think I am aware of most of your startling machinations, but I would still like to understand what has been going on in my storeroom."

"I forgot that part," Amity admitted sheepishly. "It was Jason's idea. Not to use the garden storeroom. I fear that was something that I hit upon."

"Just give me the straight of it, girl, or we'll be here until winter sets in," Max said.

"Yes, sir. Jason mentioned that some of the soldiers wanted to start a farm. It would provide food for those in desperate need and a place for some of the injured to go. I suggested to him that he locate a likely property and when he had discovered one not too far from London I instructed Henderson, my man of business, to purchase it as an investment. The men agreed to the proposition once I was able to set up a system whereby they could pay off the loan and eventually own the farm themselves."

"Devil you say!" Max was stunned at the businesslike attitude of his ward. "It was my understanding that Henderson was the one making all the decisions on behalf of your estate. Now I begin to wonder."

"In the beginning that was true, Max, but as I grew older I began to take an active role in the management of the estate. Henderson trusts my judgment now and is more than willing to accept my orders."

"It has become apparent to me that the vast store of knowledge I had concerning women has been tested by my meeting with you," Max said. He shook his head in bewilderment and grimaced at his ward's tinkling laughter. "Continue if you please," he said.

"Well, after I purchased Lady Guinevere," she said, grinning in remembrance of the pathetic mare, "it occurred to me that I might keep my eyes open for other animals in need of a home. So when I chanced to discover a sow I bought her and placed her in the garden storeroom until Jason could send someone to retrieve her. I had not counted on the fact that she would litter and then of course I did not want her moved so soon after her confinement."

"Naturally not. It would offend her sensibilities, I am sure."

Amity's eyes sparkled with humor at his bantering words. "Mrs. Putnam didn't mind the ducks but was not best pleased when I bought the goat. I am afraid it damaged one of the chairs being stored there but I am quite willing to have the repairs taken out of my allowance."

"I suspect I can stand the expense as my part in this unorthodox project. Did you send all the animals to the farm?"

"Yes and I am happy to report they are thriving. Even Lady Guinevere has never looked better."

"There was no possibility, short of death, that she could have looked worse," Max drawled. Then in an abrupt change of subject. "How do you think Bancroft will react to your enterprise?"

For the first time in their discussion, Amity looked uneasy. "I don't know. I would hope that he would consider it a worthwhile cause. After all, the soldiers fought for the freedom of England, Max. It is only right that they not be left in desperate straits now that we no longer have use for them."

"I would agree, poppet, but then I am not the man you are to marry," he commented. "No need to look so grim, Amity. I have the feeling you could convince anyone of the rightness of your actions. Come along home. All this fresh air is exhausting."

Amity took his arm and tried to appear as usual but his words had left a feeling of gloom deep in her heart. She had not considered what would happen to the soldiers once she married. Although she hoped that Bancroft might look on her activities as worthy, she suspected he might not be well pleased. She had noticed that most of the fashionable set preferred their good works in the form of donations and disdained anything that might bring them personally into the sphere of those they wished to help.

For all the loneliness of her early life, Amity was quite used to doing much as she pleased. She had not considered the fact that once she married she would be responsible for her actions to another person, who might not have the same ideas that she did. In her dealings with Bancroft she had never found him unreasonable but then she had never challenged him. She knew he was a proper stickler for the proprieties and although he appeared easygoing, she suspected he might become quite angry if she did not conform to what he considered was genteel behavior. She considered her actions commensurate with the actions of a lady. But would Bancroft?

Chapter Ten

"Now, Amity, be sure to keep your hat on," warned Hester. "I would feel far happier if I thought you would actually use that fetching parasol you are carrying. The sun is hot and I fear you will come back looking like one of those bizarre natives from the colonies."

"Never fear, Lady Grassmere, we will be lucky to even see the sun on this gloomy day," Amity said as she peered out the front door at the lowering skies. "You mustn't worry and take full advantage of my absence by curling up with that new novel I saw you sneaking into the house."

"Hush, Amity," Hester said, her face flaming with embarrassment. "What would the servants think if they heard such talk?"

"They would think you were a sweet lady, just as I do." She kissed the wrinkled cheek and, with a wave of her hand, skipped down the stairs to the waiting curricle. She accepted Max's assistance into the carriage with a few words of greeting to Lewis, the tiger, who stood holding the horses.

Max waited while she settled her skirts and put up her parasol for the benefit of Lady Grassmere who stood in the doorway. He picked up the reins and Lewis climbed up behind as they started away from the townhouse at a sedate pace. He appreciated Amity's silence while he tooled his way through the streets. The greys were new and still high-strung and he needed full concentration to control them in the traffic. Once on the open road, he relaxed and turned to his ward.

"You are looking particularly charming on this dreary day," he said, taking in her toilette with a comprehensive glance.

Amity's dress was a simple white muslin, banded at the neckline and the edge of the puffed sleeves with satin the exact color of her hair. The sash was the same color and tied beneath her breasts with the ends fluttering down to the hem of her skirt. A cluster of peacock feathers was nestled in the ribbon that circled the crown of her wide brimmed white straw hat. The opened parasol was the color of her red hair and was lined in white. All in all she was a charming picture of elegance.

"One must be optimistic, Max. After all, you planned a picnic and I wished to dress for the occasion. It is my hope that the sun shall break through the cloud cover yet."

As if on cue the sun shyly peeked from behind the blanket of clouds, getting stronger by the minute. Amity crowed her delight and Max tipped his hat in return.

"Where are we heading?" she asked.

"I thought out beyond Greenwich. There's a nice walking lane near the river."

"And to what particular event do I owe this great honor of an entire afternoon of your exalted presence?"

"I was feeling rather restless and thought it would be an excellent excuse not to be tied up with my man of business. Besides it occurred to me that in two days time you will be a betrothed young lady and have little time for your guardian. Soon you will be too busy with plans for your wedding to enjoy just a carefree afternoon," he finished quietly.

"It's true," she said, her tone less than enthusiastic. "If Ophelia approves, Bancroft wishes to make the announcement at once. I had not thought beyond the betrothal, but there are I suspect endless details to planning a wedding."

Amity was silent for the remainder of the ride, noticing little of the passing scenery. She awakened from her reverie when Max reined in the greys and looked around her in wonderment.

"I hope you approve," he said as he helped her out of the carriage.

"How could I not?" She skipped forward a few paces then hurried back her face alight with pleasure. "It is beautiful here. The river in London is so full of noisome things that I find little enjoyment in viewing it. This is how it should look."

"Well don't just stand there like some fashionable fribble," Max said, arms akimbo. "You would have it that we sneak off on our own so unless you carry something I shall be all day playing donkey. Lewis," he flashed a grin at his tiger, "must remain abandoned with the horses."

Amity laughed and accepted the armful of blankets and cushions while Max carried an enormous picnic hamper. They walked up the lane until they found an open spot beside the river. Together they spread out the blankets amid much laughter as to the perfect position. Finally they were satisfied and Amity dropped to the ground, tucking her legs beneath her muslin skirts in a graceful gesture. She watched with pleasure as Max delved into the hamper and began to unload the food.

"Mrs. Putnam must think we are planning to be gone this sennight," she said. "Chicken and ham. Oh, Max, are those cherry tarts? I vow they are my very favorites."

"Not until you eat all your dinner," Max said, staring down his nose at her like some gruff nanny. "I would offer you some wine, but Mrs. Putnam indicated that you were to have nothing but the chilled cider."

"Blast! Was never a person so beset by people who have only her best interests at heart. Whatever happened to the willful orphan who could do as she wanted," she muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"She is eating a picnic lunch on the banks of the Thames," Max responded, earning a sniff from his companion.

They ate between bursts of conversation, enjoying the novelty of the alfresco repast. The sound of the water bubbling past was a fitting counterpoint to the singing of birds in the nearby trees. Despite the admonitions of her chaperone, Amity untied her bonnet and threw it down on the grass.

"You shall return with a nose all red and freckled," Max warned.

"I know but I hate always wearing a hat. It's wonderful to feel the sun on my hair." Amity lifted the weight of her hair from her neck and raised her arms to pile it atop her head. She looked up noticing the arrested expression on her guardian's face. "Max?" she asked in question.

Max shook his head. "It's nothing, my dear." He dropped his eyes from the wood sprite who sat opposite him. He was glad she had worn her hair down today. She had been wearing it bound up lately and he had missed the ripple of curls that cascaded down her back. He could never tell her that for a moment he had wanted to bury his hands in the fiery silk of her hair. It was less than a guardian like comment.

After lunch they put away the remains of the food and returned everything to the grinning Lewis who was tucking into a lunch basket of his own. Then with her hat in place and her parasol over her shoulder, Amity took the arm Max extended and they set off down the lane.

There was much to see along the banks of the river. Flowers abounded, growing wild for the most part but in some places tended by the women in the nearby cottages. Occasionally they passed a villager and then nothing would do but Amity enter into conversation, her face piquant as she listened to the respectful answers to her myriad questions. Eventually Max would drag her away, complaining that he was being neglected.

It was on their return that they spotted the boys. Max had been telling Amity about some of the antics of his brother just prior to his being sent down from Cambridge when he noticed that her attention was no longer on the story.

Amity's eyes narrowed as she watched a group of boys placing a squirming object in a small wooden cask. She raised her voice in a shout and the boys turned startled faces in her direction. After a whispered conference, the biggest boy raised the cask over his head and threw it into the water. Then with a shout, the boys raced away from the river, disappearing from sight.

"Hurry, Max," Amity yelled and, picking up her skirts, ran to the edge of the water.

"What is it?" Max said as he came up to her at a more leisurely pace.

"It's a cat, I think." Her eyes scanned the surface of the water and with a shout she caught hold of his arm, pointing at the wooden object bobbing a short distance away. "They put it inside the cask."

"Well, I fear, my girl, there is nothing we can do for it. If it's not drowned already, it soon will be."

Max's practical words did little to dampen her need for action. She flung an exasperated glance in his direction before dashing along the bank, following the progress of the cat-laden vessel. She closed her parasol and extended it over the water, hoping the cask would float nearer. The barrel remained tantalizingly beyond reach and her face took on an anguished expression as the wooden casket sank lower in the water. Max could not stand to see her suffer over the fate of the cat and he scanned the area ahead until he thought he had found a logical spot to execute a rescue.

"Come along, Amity," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along in his wake. "There's a place further down where the river bends. We'll try for it there."

Her face full of gratitude was reward enough for his insanity and lent wings to their feet as they raced along beside the river. Reaching the spot where the bank jutted out over the water, Max ripped off his jacket and grabbed a handful of tall bushes for purchase.

"Now open your parasol and give me your hand. No, the other one so you can see what you're doing. Brace your feet against mine and I shall lower you over the water."

Amity followed his directions, squealing as the hem of her skirts dipped close to the water. She kept her eyes fastened to the bobbing cask and was overjoyed to see that if it maintained its position she should be able to scoop it up with the parasol as it passed.

"Get ready," Max shouted in encouragement.

He extended his arm as the barrel approached and cheered as she reached out to capture the prize. Just as the cask floated into the parasol, the bank gave way underneath his feet and he lost his grip on the bushes holding him onto dry ground. Max's shout and Amity's squeal were lost in the sound of the enormous splash as both of them hit the water.