Julia London (57 page)

“Perhaps,” Whitcomb said thoughtfully. “Can’t deny the countryside suffers worse than the manufacturers. But I don’t like the reform package the Radicals are pushing—they want to do away with the whole parliamentary system, I fear, and the first step would be allowing the Catholics a seat. Can’t have that, you know.”

Alex did not immediately respond. Catholic emancipation was a point of great contention among his peers, but he honestly could not care less if Catholics held a seat in Parliament. “All I know is that we need relief and a
new, fair
system of taxation. Perhaps next Season we could work together toward a more palatable set of reforms.”

Whitcomb smiled as he drained his port glass. “I might be amenable to that. Always enjoyed a good fight in the Lords. Well, gentlemen, shall we see what the ladies are about?” He did not wait for an answer, but shoved away from the table. Alex and Arthur dutifully followed him to
the green salon, where they sat quietly listening to the ladies talk of engagement parties for two hours more.

Later, as Alex stood in the foyer with his mother, he heard Marlaine mention that she and Lady Whitcomb would return the next day to discuss the winter engagement party. He managed not to snort impatiently.

   Two days later, having escaped the tedium of Sutherland Hall, Alex stopped at a rushing stream so his stallion, Jupiter, could drink. He had been chasing the same buck all morning, but the animal was wily and knew how to evade him. He guessed he was at least five miles from his hunting lodge, Dunwoody. Only a day’s ride from Sutherland Hall, he often came to Dunwoody for a few days of respite from his title. Or his wedding.

Rubbing his eyes, he dropped the reins as Jupiter drank and considered calling it a day. His thoughts drifted to Marlaine. She, of course, had not wanted him to go hunting. She had fretted about it, anxious that something might happen to him and she would not be there to care for him. He had rather salaciously suggested she come along and take care of all his needs, but Marlaine had grown wide-eyed with mortification at the mere suggestion. He had never bedded Marlaine, respecting her ironclad determination to hold on to her virtue until the very last possible moment.

So he had come alone, unable to endure one more day of idle chatter about their wedding. Marlaine and her mother were insisting on an event during the Season—meaning he had several long months to wait until he could bed her. And several long months to listen to talk of trousseaus, wedding breakfasts, engagement fetes, and bridal trips. Dear
God.

She had whimpered when he left. He had responded to that maidenly display by telling her she best get accustomed to his absences. He had left her standing at the great entrance to Sutherland Hall, cautioning him with all sincerity to have a care for his person. Have a care, indeed. He had
scaled mountains and forded roaring rivers without a nursemaid and supposed he could manage to hunt alone for a few days.

A sound in the brush startled him, but he never saw the animal. Jupiter suddenly reared, neighing loudly. Caught off guard, Alex grabbed the reins and fought to contain the massive horse, almost falling from the saddle for his efforts. Horse and rider rushed headlong across the stream and into the brush, blinded by dense foliage and shackled by the thick undergrowth. When Jupiter burst through the thicket into a small clearing a few moments later, Alex pulled up hard, finally gaining control. The incident left them both panting; they stood in the clearing, each fighting to regain their breath. He became aware of a stinging in his leg and looked down. His buckskin breeches were torn and his shin was bleeding where he had obviously slammed up against a thornbush.

“What then, have you never seen a hare, old boy?” He soothingly patted the steed’s neck, and attempted to turn back. Jupiter moved awkwardly, neighing softly when his right foreleg came into contact with the ground.

“Christ.”
Alex sighed wearily and dismounted. He felt for broken bones, thankfully finding none. Nevertheless, Jupiter was in no mood to use the sprained appendage.

“Bloody, bloody hell,” Alex muttered, and glanced around him. Dunwoody lands were vast but oddly shaped, and he could not be completely certain he was still on his property. He impatiently removed his hat and ran a hand through his thick hair as he debated what to do. He hated the thought of leaving Jupiter, but without knowing the full extent of his injuries, he could not chance walking him very far without risking serious damage. Walking to Dunwoody was out of the question; he had ridden too far. If he was not mistaken, the village of Pemberheath was due north, perhaps a mile or two more. At least he hoped so.

He reluctantly tied Jupiter’s rein to a low limb of a tree
and covered his heavy rifle in a pile of leaves. “Mind you keep an eye on it,” he said lamely, stroked the stallion’s nose, and walked out of the clearing, headed north to Pemberheath.

Traipsing through the wheat stubble, Lauren could not see the hog, Lucy, anywhere. It was unusually warm for the time of year, and she paused to loosen the collar of her work gown. She absently examined a wheat stalk Lucy had stomped in her escape and wondered how long hogs lived. Lucy had to be positively ancient by now, and the older she got, the more obstinate she became. For reasons beyond Lauren’s ability to understand, the children loved her. The last time Lucy had gotten it into her head to take a stroll in search of new fodder, it had taken the considerable efforts of both her and Rupert to lure her home, and she had not gone so far that time. As Rupert had taken Ethan and Paul to Pemberheath, she would have to corral Lucy by herself. She had no earthly idea what she would do once she found the walking ham, but if she did not return with her, the children would be frantic.

She came to the edge of the field, but still no Lucy. Beyond the barren wheat field was an orchard of new apple trees, donated by Abbey’s friends, Lord and Lady Haversham.
Beyond that, a few spindly stalks of harvested corn. And farther still, a field of pumpkins, which Lauren had already bartered for enough tallow to last the next two months.

Dear Lord, but it was terribly warm. The heavy mane of her hair was making her neck sticky, and she attempted to knot it, but her efforts did little more than keep a few errant strands from her face. She wiped a hand across her brow and continued plodding through the field, shaking her head at the damage the enormous pig had caused as she had rumbled through the cornstalks.

She found Lucy in the middle of several destroyed pumpkins, happily munching away. “Oh
no
!” Lauren groaned. As she approached, the headstrong hog moved in front of the pumpkin she was devouring and glared at Lauren.

“Lucy, come away from there!” she insisted, fully cognizant that Lucy had never heeded a single command in her long life. Lucy responded with a loud, warning snort. Lauren slowly circled her, thinking that if she could grab the last pumpkin in the row, the ham might follow her. But the moment Lauren reached for the pumpkin, Lucy charged. With a shriek, Lauren jumped out of the way. Lucy had
never
charged her. Standing between Lauren and the half-eaten pumpkin, Lucy began to paw the earth like a bull. Lauren cautiously backed away, but it did not convince the swine of her good intentions, and she continued to paw the earth, snorting wildly. Besides food, Lauren knew of only one thing that would calm Lucy.

She sang, a little frantically, a song from a Shakespeare play. If there was one thing Helmut had liked in his declining health, it was a good play. English, German, or French, it made no difference. A variety of plays had been staged at Bergenschloss at great expense, and if Helmut liked one in particular, it was played several times.

“Who is Silvia, what is she? That all our Swains commend her?”
Lauren sang softly, then paused. She quickly
resumed when Lucy angrily pawed the ground again. “
Holy, faire, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, that she might admired be.…
” Lucy stopped pawing and regarded Lauren suspiciously.
“Is she kinde as she is faire? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repaire, to helpe him of his blindness: And being help’d, inhabits there.…”

Putting aside, for the moment, that it was utterly
ridiculous
to be standing in the middle of a pumpkin field singing to a hog, Lauren had no idea what to do. If she stopped, Lucy was prepared to charge. But she could hardly stand here singing all day like a simpleton. Trapped between the wood fence and Lucy, Lauren tried to think while she sang.

   Alex paused and removed his coat, then lifted his foot. Just bloody grand. A stone had pierced a hole in the sole of his very,
very
expensive boots. What he paid for the custom-made leather Hessians should have guaranteed him a walk all the way to Scotland and back. He slung his coat over his shoulder and continued, wincing every so often when he managed to step on a pebble and spear the bottom of his foot. God, he had never been so completely miserable. First that stubborn buck, then Jupiter, and now his boot. And to top it all off, he was positively melting under the bright sun. Alex angrily yanked at his neckcloth, muttering an oath or two against his tailor as he did, when an unusual sound caught his attention.

He had to be hearing things.

He paused, straining to listen. A gentle, lilting voice lifted on the breeze from nowhere. “
Holy, faire, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her
…” Yes, he was definitely imagining things. That was a song from
The Two Gentleman of Verona.
He almost laughed at the notion of some crofter singing a song from a Shakespearean play. With a derisive chuckle, he shook his head and started forward again, but quickly drew up short.
“Then to Silvia, let
us sing, that Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortall thing upon the dull earth dwelling. To her let us Garlands bring…”
He most definitely was not hearing things. Alex turned slowly toward the sound and quietly sucked in his breath.

God Almighty, it was no crofter.

Standing nearby in a field was a vision of a woman. Woman? She was an
angel
—with dark chestnut hair loosely knotted in the middle of her back, tiny curls of it swirling softly about her face. God, but she was
beautiful.
Classic, patrician lines, a small, straight nose, full lips the color of roses, the voice of a wren. Alex shook his head and squinted at her again. Had he been walking in the sun too long? Was this some kind of dream? He moved slowly toward the fence, captivated by her voice and extraordinary beauty. A movement to his right disrupted his attention, and he reluctantly shifted his gaze from the vision.

This was no dream.

It would not include such an enormous, mean-faced hog. Alex quickly shifted his gaze to the angel and frowned. Nor would an angel be wearing a plain brown dress and a pair of thick-soled, clumsy boots. The angel was just a young woman who was … hell, he didn’t know
what
she was doing. Except standing in a field. And singing to a hog.

He was suddenly embarrassed to be staring at her as if she were some priceless piece of art. At the very least, he ought to ask if she knew how far it was to Pemberheath. He braced one leg against the rough-hewn fence and called, “Good day!”

Both the hog and the woman started, jerking wide-eyed looks of surprise to him. A moment passed; the woman warily slid her gaze to the hog, and the hog to her.

Then the hog suddenly charged.

With a cry, the angel whirled and headed for the fence, her long hair flying out behind her like some surreal banner. She ran for her life, and so did that huge swine. Alex
dropped his coat and held out his arms, intending to help her. But the hog, which had to outweigh her by a factor of at least four, was moving with alarming speed and gaining on her. She must have sensed it because she glanced over her shoulder and shrieked. Reaching the fence just barely ahead of the swine, she ignored his outstretched arms and hurled herself across the structure in a cloud of brown wool and silken hair, landing squarely on top of him. His hands somehow found her waist, but the impact caused him to lose his footing, and the two tumbled to the earth, rolling down a short embankment.

Unexpectedly flat on his back, Alex blinked up at the clear blue sky, momentarily uncertain as to what had just happened. Another clouded moment passed before he realized his hand was trapped beneath her firm derriere. Before he could do anything about it, his view of the blue sky was abruptly obscured by the angel’s lovely face, a pair of vivid cobalt eyes narrowed menacingly, and the banner of hair spilling over her shoulder and pooling onto his chest.

“Are you
mad
?” she fairly shrieked, and jumped to her feet.

A little stunned, Alex slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, eyeing her warily as she brushed the dirt and grass from her gown. “Am I?” he asked incredulously. “Madam, I was not the one singing to a hog!”

“You
startled
her! She was doing quite nicely until then, did you not see that?” the vision shouted at him.

Rather astonished, Alex struggled to his haunches, retrieved his hat, and stood. The lass was yelling at him. No one ever yelled at him. No one ever so much as lifted their voice. Most never really
spoke
to him. “I may have startled her, but what about you?” he shot back. “That hog was intent on swallowing you whole, and there you stood, singing like some actor on a stage!”

“A
stage
? I was
calming
her, how could you not
see
that?” she cried, and punched her fists to her slender hips to better glare at him.

“
Calming
her? That’s absurd! You silly little chit, she could have killed you!” he shouted.

“And just who are you calling a
silly little chit
?” she fairly shrieked, then as quickly as a cloud scuds across the sky, the anger slipped from her face.

And she laughed.

Not the polite titter to which he was accustomed from women, but a deep, heartfelt laugh. Her hands splayed across her middle as if to keep the laughter contained, and she bent backward with glee. Her hair reflected the sun’s rays in the rich dark gold streaks as it drifted toward the earth. Her rose lips stretched over a row of even, white teeth, and she laughed so hard that tears seeped from the corners of her brilliant blue eyes. Quite unaccustomed to such an artless display of gaiety, Alex nervously shifted his weight to one leg.