Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (5 page)

Letty’s face fell, and although she did not utter a word of complaint, Charley knew the thought of walking such a distance dismayed the child as much as it did herself. She said tartly, “My good man, it is all of six or seven miles from here. I’ve got half boots on, but you must see that Letty is wearing very thin slippers.”

“Perhaps if I were to ride and hold the child before me, Annabelle will not complain,” he suggested.

“And you expect me to trail along meekly behind you, I suppose.” She had an odd notion that he was baiting her, but she dismissed it as being too ludicrous to contemplate. “I have a better notion,” she said.

“What is that, mademoiselle?”

“I will ride Annabelle with Letty, and you may walk.”

He scratched his head. “Do you think you can ride her,
mon ange?
She will object, I assure you, and we have no sidesaddle.”

“Stand aside,” Charley said curtly. Her manner swiftly calmed, however, when she approached the mare and began speaking to her. “You will let me ride you, Annabelle,” she said. “I have no sugar to give you, nor carrots, but—”

A lump of sugar was pressed into her right hand from behind. Glancing back, she smiled uncertainly and thanked him. Stroking the mare, she gave it the sugar, waited until Annabelle nuzzled her for more, then said to Jean Matois, “If you will give me a leg up, I believe I can manage her now. She should not object to my skirts any more than she objects to all the items you dangle from her saddle, after all.”

“Perhaps we ought to move farther from the edge of the road,” he murmured. “If she should pitch you over the cliff, all our effort will have gone for naught.”

Still speaking in the caressing tone she used with the mare, Charley said, “Don’t be stupid. She won’t pitch me off, whatever else she does. Give me a leg up. Letty, hold Annabelle’s bridle.”

Obediently, he formed a stirrup for her with his hands, and she put her left foot into it, being careful not to startle Annabelle. Holding her skirt away from the mare’s side with her left hand instead of resting it on his shoulder, she put her right lightly on the pommel to steady herself and allowed him to lift her. Once she was balanced on the saddle—a smaller one than her sidesaddle—she took a moment to steady the mare before arranging her skirt.

“Shorten the left stirrup, please,” she said quietly, “and tuck up the right one so it won’t hit Annabelle’s side when we begin to move.”

“Will one stirrup be enough to steady you on that saddle?” he asked.

“Good mercy, I don’t use the stirrups to steady myself any more than I’ll wager you do. As a child, I learned to ride without using either stirrups or reins.”

“Riding astride, perhaps, but—”

“No such thing!” The mare side-stepped, and Charley steadied it without pausing. “I’ll have you know that at ten I could ride a sidesaddle at a gallop, sitting on a handkerchief with a piece of paper between my lower leg and the saddle. I could do it without using reins or stirrups, and never lose paper or handkerchief.”

“Whoever allowed you to try such stunts wants flogging,” he said in a tone more grim than any she had yet heard him use.

“That was my mama,” Letty said matter-of-factly. “She taught Cousin Charley to ride, and me, too. And also our cousin Melissa, who lives in Hampshire now. All of us can ride without—”

“Melissa!” Charley exclaimed. “Good mercy, what a ninny I am not to have thought of that before. We are much closer to Seacourt Head than to Tuscombe Park.”

Matois said, “
Bien sûr, mademoiselle.
This headland which saved your life is called Seacourt Head. It is no distance at all.”

“Don’t be absurd. I mean the house, of course. There is a road along the west face of the headland that leads to a house on the point.”

“Mais, oui,
and a fine house it is,” he agreed. “But it lies empty, does it not?”

“Not empty, merely staffed by very few servants. That is my cousin’s house. She inherited it when her father died, but visits only for short periods and brings a host of servants with her. There must be horses we can borrow. From here to the road cannot be more than a quarter mile and from there, it’s less than a mile to the house. We’ll take the cliff path to Tuscombe Park House. This road curves east toward Duloe before it heads west again, so it would take much longer.”

“You might discover an aversion to any cliff path just now,” he said quietly.

“Nonsense. I’m not afraid of anything when I’ve got a good horse under me.”

“And the child? Do you speak for her, as well?”

Charley glanced at Letty, who was frowning slightly. “Will you be frightened to ride along the cliff, darling?”

“Oh, no. I told you, I have not got a smidgen of sensibility. If it is the shortest route, I vote that we take it. I was just wondering if it would not be better if I were to ride astride, since that saddle has not got a leaping horn. I’ve got my pantalets on, you know, so if monsieur will not be dreadfully shocked …” She looked at him.

“Monsieur will not be shocked at all,” he said. “Shall I put you up?”

“Yes, please, but I think you had better carry Jeremiah until Annabelle becomes more accustomed to him, don’t you?”

“Most assuredly.” He lifted her up behind Charley, and although the mare skittered nervously, it soon settled down. Fifteen minutes later, when they found the road to Seacourt House, Jean Matois said, “I am glad you believe we shall find horses. Otherwise I should insist that we trade places halfway. I know that walking is excellent exercise, but I got practically no sleep last night.”

Charley was about to tell him what she thought of trading places, but catching his gaze and observing a decided twinkle in his eyes, she thought better of the notion. Monsieur Matois possessed an impudence quite out of character in a man of his class. Apparently, Frenchmen of that class differed from their English counterparts.

They reached Seacourt House a short time later, and Sam and Aggie Corlan, the man and woman in charge there, were kind enough to provide them with not only a pair of horses and sidesaddles but breakfast of a sort, as well.

Charley noted that, in the presence of Sam and Aggie, Monsieur Matois behaved like any other member of his class, staying with Annabelle and generally effacing himself until Sam requested help saddling the other horses.

Since Charley had known the Corlans all her life, she told them what had happened, but asked them to tell no one else for the present. “I don’t want Grandpapa to learn of the accident before I can tell him myself,” she explained. “We mean to ride straight to Tuscombe Park from here, but I know how swiftly bad news can spread.”

“Land sakes, Miss Charley, I don’t know who we’d be telling. There’s only Sam and me, for our Todd’s gone off to Hampshire. But here they be wi’ the horses.”

Still munching one of Aggie’s saffron buns, Charley let Matois assist her to mount. When he helped Letty, the little girl gave him an apple. Grinning at her, he polished it on his sleeve and took a bite. Charley knew Aggie had given him food, so she was not much surprised when he ate only half and gave the rest to Annabelle.

The gesture pleased Letty, for she told him so, in French, as they made their way around the large horse pond in the stable yard, past tall hedges protecting the garden, and back to the road. Once Matois ascertained that Charley also spoke French, their conversation continued in that language, dominated by Letty’s eager questions about life in the French countryside, and his answers. Charley rode quietly, content to listen to them, having no desire to be alone with her thoughts. She spoke French well enough, but Letty was much more fluent, and much more eager to converse.

Frequently, children of English diplomats living abroad never knew they had lived in a foreign country. They spoke only English, were surrounded by English servants, and were never allowed to mix with the native population. Lord and Lady Abreston, however, had decided with his first diplomatic post that their children would benefit more by learning firsthand about other cultures than by ignoring them.

As son and heir of the Marquess of Jervaulx, Gideon Deverill, now styled Earl of Abreston, had enjoyed some choice positions. People who feared that his outspoken wife might ruin his diplomatic career had quickly learned their error. Daintry, Countess of Abreston, made friends wherever she went. Not only was she well read and well educated but she was an excellent horsewoman, as much at home on a hunting field as in a stately drawing room. That she was exceptionally forthright proved to be a refreshing change in a world where many searched and analyzed every statement for hidden meaning. That she chose to introduce her children to state visitors some people accounted an eccentricity, but when the children proved to have excellent manners, and poise and charm beyond their years, they too were soon accepted.

As a result of this unusual upbringing, Letty spoke some German and Italian, as well as excellent French, but Charley, listening to her converse with Matois, soon realized that the child’s fluency might astonish even her fond mama. Trying to follow the conversation, Charley found that they had gone beyond her depth. She could pick up an occasional word or phrase, but their language now was extremely idiomatic and, she suspected, the sort of French one heard more in sordid streets and alleyways than in polite drawing rooms.

They were enjoying themselves, however, and she did not mind being left out. She watched Jean Matois, amused by the various expressions that crossed his face as he talked with Letty. Once he addressed a remark to Charley, as if he feared they had been rude, but when she answered in an offhand way, he seemed to know she was content to be silent, and returned to his conversation with Letty.

Jeremiah rode in a pouch Letty had fashioned from a shawl of Aggie Corlan’s. The way the little monkey poked his bristly round head out now and again, as if checking their progress before snuggling back in the shawl, made Charley smile.

More than once her thoughts drifted to the carriage at the bottom of the cliff, but she wrenched them back to the present each time. She wondered if she had been wrong not to insist on going down to the beach herself. She was, after all, taking the word of a stranger that her parents were dead. Though she tried to think of other things, it was like having a sore tooth. Her thoughts kept drifting back to touch the pain.

When the main drive to Tuscombe Park House came into sight, Matois reined in and said, “That is where you go,
n’est-ce pas?”

“Oui,”
she replied automatically, halting her own mount when she realized he did not mean to ride farther. “You must let us make you known to our grandfather, monsieur. He will want to see you suitably rewarded.”

His flashing grin brought a responding smile to her lips, but it faded when he said,
“Mais non, mon ange.
I require no reward beyond knowing you are safe. I will leave you now. Your people will find the wreckage easily, and they will look after you and
la petite,
as well.
Adieu.”

Letty waved, calling good-bye to Annabelle. But the moment Matois had ridden beyond earshot, she said matter-of-factly, “He is English by birth, not French, I think.”

“Good mercy, how can you imagine that? I heard the pair of you prattling away and using words,
ma petite,
that I expect your mama would blush to hear you utter.”

Letty chuckled. “That is perfectly true. Papa was most displeased the first, and only, time he heard me speak so. But that was only because Grandpapa Jervaulx was there at the time and turned instantly into an iceberg. You know his way. At least, I daresay you don’t, but although he can be as kind as anyone I know, it does not do to arouse his displeasure. Not only does he turn positively glacial but I have observed that nothing sends Papa into alt quicker than when one displeases Grandpapa.”

“Letty.”

The child looked at her. “Why do I think he’s English?”

Charley nodded.

“Well, for one thing, although his vocabulary is quite extensive, he betrays an odd accent with some words. At first he spoke a lower-class patois, so I began doing the same. Then I slipped in some rather horrid idioms, and he did not seem to notice. Next I began changing from patois back to drawing room French, and he did the same quite easily, without seeming to notice. And,” she added, “he spoke like a gentleman at times, even in English. That’s what first made me wonder about him.”

“I noticed that, too, now that you mention it,” Charley said thoughtfully. “Perhaps he just attempts to ape his betters, but I think for the present we will say as little about Monsieur Matois as possible.”

“That was another thing that made me pay heed to him,” Letty said.

“What was?”

“Matois. It means cunning, like a fox.”

“Does it indeed?”

Antony exerted himself not to look back, much as he wanted to enjoy one more view of the red-headed moppet and her beautiful cousin. Charley, indeed, he thought. Ridiculous to attach a boyish name to a woman with the glossiest black hair and the most kissable red lips he had ever seen. He felt sure that Jean Matois would not look back, but if Jean Matois were long in the presence of those two, he would soon lose his identity altogether. Playing a role was proving to be more difficult in England than in France. All too easily had he heard himself slip into the old speech patterns he had known from birth. Even in French—Lord, what a vocabulary the child had. But he was safer in French. He doubted that Letty was old enough to heed the way he spoke.

He would not see them again, which was a pity. He liked them both, and the ridiculous monkey, too. When the creature had first shrieked at him out of the darkness, he nearly jumped out of his skin. It had not once occurred to him what he might find if he followed it. He had done so only out of curiosity.

Hoping none of his comrades had seen him with the young ladies, he wondered if he ought to have warned them not to speak of meeting him. They could increase his danger considerably if they were to tell anyone that from time to time he spoke like an English gentleman. Better not to have made a point of it by requesting their silence, he decided. They would have more important matters to divert their attention from him.