“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly.
“I will miss ye until ye return,” he said softly, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Fleetwood frowning. He waited for the inevitable. He knew it was coming, and it did.
Fleetwood waited only long enough for the ladies to leave the room before he turned directly to the earl and said, “She is a love, little Bess. She has the sweetest disposition. Wouldn’t like to see her hurt.”
The earl could not fault him for this, but he was not the sort of man to be dictated to, especially by a younger man. His brow went up, and he said on a dry note, “I would think it very odd in ye if ye wished to see Lady Bess hurt.”
“Yes, right.” Fleetwood glared at him, obviously not ready to openly accuse or take it further.
The earl felt for the lad’s position. He could see that Fleetwood wanted to warn him off but knew it was not his place. It was the job of Lady Bess’s father to steer her clear of a rogue like himself. In fact, why hadn’t he?
~ Nine ~
THE COUNTRYSIDE WAS in full bloom. Budding leaves were popping, and the daffodils were riotous with bright yellow. The scent of early spring wafted delicious, intoxicated the senses, and seduced.
Bess loved nature but was scarcely able to take it all in as she wielded the matched grays of his lordship’s high-perch phaeton.
She glanced at him fleetingly and responded to his compliment that she was, indeed, a skilled driver.
“You are flattering me again, and it isn’t at all necessary, my lord. You already have a place in my heart.” She knew she was behaving outrageously, and she felt alive with mischief.
He laughed and said, “Minx. Ye doona mean that.”
“Which? That you needn’t flatter me, or that you have a place in my heart?” she said, continuing to banter with him.
“Both, ye little wretch of a lass.” As he regarded her, a full laugh shook him.
“Uh-uh-uh,” she cautioned with an accompanying giggle. “You are lapsing from your flattery.”
He reached out and would have touched her face had she not withdrawn her body from him and warned, “
My lord
, I am driving. Do not distract me.”
“And would m’touching ye distract ye from yer task?” he said on a husky note.
She grimaced at him. “I am coming to a bend in the road.”
“So ye are. Just keep yer hands on the reins, my lass. Doona take it wide.”
“Yes, yes, you are quite right,” she answered thankfully, for this was not her carriage, not her horses. She had to constantly be vigilant. And then a giggle escaped her as he stroked her arm. “I shall do, if you would but keep your hands to yourself.”
“Adorable,” he whispered. “That is the heart of it, making it very difficult to keep my hands to m’self.” However, he narrowed his eyes and said, “There, I see the Gypsy camp in the distance. Just remain calm, lass, and approach the traffic slowly.”
Bess saw the commotion of different carriages, wagons, and people milling about and said nervously, “My lord,
take the reins
, do, please. Your grays are such high steppers, and I am afraid I might do them some harm in tight quarters.”
“Nonsense. Take them into the field. Go on then, lass—ye be quite capable of it,” he urged.
She stopped the grays, though she did not brake the phaeton. “Thank you, my lord,” she said simply and with a formal edge to her tone, “but I prefer that
you
do the thing.”
She saw doubt in his blue eyes, those eyes that always seemed to speak to her, but then suddenly, with one brow arched, he assented. “Very well, m’fine lass, but be forewarned. I mean for ye to drive m’team into town tomorrow and learn how to handle them in traffic.”
She put up her chin, somewhat offended, as she handed him the reins and said, “Oh, as to that, I know how to drive a team in traffic, make no mistake. I do not, however, wish the responsibility of taking yours into such a situation. ’Tis very different with a team that is not your own.”
A few moments later the earl drew up his phaeton, saying, “I think we’ll park our carriages here, away from the crowd.”
Donna wielded her carriage with the beautiful matched bays alongside them as they turned into the field, and Robby nearly stood with his excitement as he shouted, “Did you see there? Did you?”
“See what, where?” Lady Bess asked with keen interest.
“The performing bear!” he answered in high glee. “I saw it, and there is where we must go first.”
The groom that sat at the back of their carriage jumped down and began seeing to getting the horses tethered at a nearby tree at a bit of a walking distance from the main field people were using for parking their vehicles.
The gentlemen alighted from their carriages and turned to help the ladies.
Fleet, who was on horseback, saw to his own horse, loosened the girth of the saddle, saw an urchin, and called to him. The boy appeared eagerly, and Fleet flipped him a coin, saying, “What’s your name, son?”
“Jem. M’father is the farmer that works this spot of land. We let the Gypsies put up here, and me and m’brothers help the flash coveys sech as yerself with yer horses.”
Fleet laughed and flipped him another coin. “Here you go then, and there will be another one when I return if you look after my horse.”
“Oi will, sir, that oi will, ye can count on it,” the boy said, grinning wide as he pocketed the coins. “Would ye be wanting me to water him for ye? The stream is just over there.” He pointed to a narrow rocky stream that wound through the field, and Fleet agreed to it before he turned to Bess.
“Well done, Fleet,” Bess complimented him, and he beamed. She turned and, finding the earl frowning, laughed to ask, “What is it, my lord? Don’t you want to see a performing bear?”
“What I want,” he said on a low whisper as he bent to her ear, “is probably not something I should say to ye.”
She felt a shiver of excitement rush through her. Heat burned her cheeks, and her eyelashes fluttered with a will of their own. She looked into his blues and surprised herself with her daring. “Really, my lord, but I find I wish I knew just what it is you want.”
“Och, lass, I am a cad for even thinking of ye the way I think of ye. Saying it would make me a blackguard.”
“Bess, come on!” Robby shouted. “Donna won’t budge without you, and we shouldn’t dawdle here. The bear awaits!”
Fleetwood, used to falling in with Robby’s plans since their school days, agreed, saying, “It is a rare kick-up,
rare
!”
“Frippery fellows,” Bess declared on a short laugh. “You be careful that bear doesn’t see his next meal in you two.”
Donna and Bess fell into step as Robby and Fleet hurried on ahead, supposedly to find and save them a good vantage point from which to view this performing bear.
The earl chuckled as he escorted them and said, “After the bear, what would you ladies enjoy seeing?”
“The fortune teller,” Bess answered at once.
They reached a row of booths with brightly painted awnings. One in particular sported dolls of various types and sizes and caught Bess’s attention. Robby had at this moment returned to take his wife in hand and pull her along to where he said Fleet was holding a bench for them all.
Bess, however, slowed to a stop at the ‘doll’ booth, with the earl hovering protectively at her side.
She found and held up a china doll. “Isn’t she pretty?” she exclaimed.
“Very, but not nearly as—” he started.
She put up a hand and giggled. “Don’t say it.” Shaking her head, she added, “It is much too pat.”
“Monkey!” He chastised her and took her hand. “Do ye want it? Shall I purchase it for ye, m’sweet?”
She was genuinely horrified. “Oh no, please do not—I will be terribly uncomfortable if you offer to purchase everything I find pretty, for I like a great many things.”
He laughed. “Absurd lass, canna I not give ye a small gift?”
She lowered her gaze again, and he shook his head and gave her a half smile. “Never mind. Coom along then, for ye will enjoy the bear—from what I can see, he is putting on a bit of a show!”
He took her hand to lead her, and she allowed it. She knew she shouldn’t. She knew she was past falling for him, that she was in already far too deep to easily climb out of the all-encompassing love that flooded every fiber of her being. Her question, always her question: could he love her back, or would his resistance to such a far-reaching emotion make him walk away?
The performing bear turned out to be beyond even what Robby thought it would be. Bess and Donna clapped hands and oohed and aahed, but Bess turned to find his lordship’s eyes not on the bear but on her. A rush of emotion surged through her, and she thought in that moment that he might, just might be starting to care for her more than he would admit.
Perhaps she could encourage him over the edge? It certainly wouldn’t be easy, for she could also see him attempting to put up a wall every single time she thought she might be making headway.
The performing bear show was done, and as they walked past a row of booths holding many intriguing items for sale, Robby and Fleet were engrossed in some argument or other. Donna was busy advising them that they were both off on the subject when Bess spied a table nearby and moved to it to allow her gloved finger to touch a lovely cameo.
“Do ye want it, and doona tell me I canna buy it for ye. ’Tis the veriest nothing.” The earl’s voice in her ear made her tremble.
She turned her head partially, enough to find his blue eyes intent with something she dared not name. “You really must not. This is even more unsuitable for you to purchase for me than the doll. You must see that? Now do stop, or I shan’t be able to look at anything in your presence. Besides, my lord, I have enough pin money to pay for it should I want it.”
“Yes,
but I
wish to purchase it for ye. ’Tis not really jewelry, not diamonds or rubies, and I do assure you, Bess, it is no more than a trinket. I should dearly love you to have it from me as a token …
of this time together
.”
Hopes sank to the pit of her stomach. Was he telling her good-bye? Did he realize how she felt and mean to show her with a gift that it could never go any further? Was that what he meant? She turned away from his face and in so doing spied a tent clearly marked. “Oh, look—the fortune teller!”
“Right then, and that is something I shall manage and will brook no argument from ye.”
And once again he held her hand as he led her through the crowd of people. They stopped in front of the tent, and she looked at him archly. “Will you have your fortune read as well?”
He eyed her with a twinkle and answered, “We’ll see.”
* * *
The earl left her for a private reading and stepped out of the tent to find Robby, Donna, and Fleetwood bearing down on him. He could see that young Fleet looked chagrined and smiled to himself.
“John!” Robby called and waved. “Come see this …”
He nodded and checked his pocket watch. He wouldn’t be far, and he wouldn’t be long while Bess had her reading, so he meandered over to the group.
* * *
Inside, Bess sat before the fortune teller, an elderly woman with a bright yellow scarf tied around her short gray curls. Her face was lined, and her dark eyes looked tired. Something about the woman made Bess feel uneasy, but she brushed this aside.
As Bess sat, she looked around and saw that the back of the tent opened onto a covered Gypsy wagon.
The aged woman took out a set of cards and said, “Keep yer eyes on m’cards, not m’home.”
“Oh, ah, so sorry,” Bess answered, feeling uncomfortable.
“M’Tarot cards tell all.”
“Sounds very interesting,” Lady Bess said, hoping it would be, yet something she wasn’t sure about worried her.
The woman began turning over cards and said softly, “You are beloved.” She then shook her head as she turned over another card. “But there will be hardships to face, and soon, very soon, they will begin.” She sighed and glared at Bess. The candlelight gave the Gypsy woman an eerie look, and Bess felt a shiver race through her system.
Another card was turned, and the woman said, “You have courted danger and must withdraw. You are very brave, but bravery can bring you harm.” She seemed to glare at Bess as she reshuffled the deck and demanded, “Touch the pack.”
Bess did this with a light tap and waited as the woman turned over three cards and sighed heavily. “I do not like to give a reading like this. I will tell you only that you are in danger …” She shook her head. “Your man will be angry that I did not give you a light and easy reading.”
“He is not
my
man, and I am fully prepared to take the ups and downs of life.” Bess shrugged.
“Not your man?” the Gypsy returned with eyebrows up. “Well, as you say.” She turned over another card and clucked her tongue. She reached out and grabbed Bess’s gloved hand. “Listen to me, child.
B
eware
. Forget things you have seen, or someone will try and hurt you …
beware
.”
Lady Bess had enough and got to her feet. “Thank you. I will beware,” she said kindly.
The older woman remained seated, pulled her brightly embroidered shawl around herself, and said, “You are forewarned. If you believe, you are forewarned.”
Bess couldn’t get out of the tent fast enough and with a sigh of relief felt the warm sunshine on her face as she looked around the busy throng of people.
A goat apparently had broken free from one of the petting enclosures and nearly bumped into Bess as it scurried behind the tent she had just emerged from. She laughed and followed it a few steps but then came up short.
The Gypsy wagon at the back of the old woman’s tent was familiar, all too familiar. It couldn’t be the same one. No doubt they all looked alike? That was it; it simply looked like the one she had seen the other day. It couldn’t be the same one—that would be too much of a
coincidence
.
A creaking sound made her duck out of sight. She hid herself behind a large water barrel as a gentleman whose foppish clothes and style reminded her of the stranger who had accosted her at the Red Lion approached the wagon.