Mistress of the Hunt (11 page)

“Will he never do so, then?” This possibility had not, in fact, occurred to her.

“No indeed. When you hunted with his pack, I daresay you saw no one you did not know in the field, or if there was a stranger, he was one who might properly be introduced to you; whereas, in a general hunt, one often has not the least notion who the man riding next to one may be.”

“Well, I daresay you are perfectly right,” Philippa said amicably, “which shows very clearly how wrong I was to apply to Mr. Assheton-Smith and to Lord Lonsdale at all, when I ought from the outset to have applied to you, sir. It becomes perfectly clear that the Wyvern is the hunt for me, for I am persuaded, sir, that you are rather more nice in your notions than to allow the scaff and raff to fling themselves into your runs. I may certainly rely upon you to invite only those gentlemen who may be trusted to treat a lady as they should.”

Rochford’s eyes gleamed in appreciation of her tactics, but he shook his head. “No, Lady Philippa,” he said gently.

“No?” She bit her lip, then cocked her head a little to one side. “Do you mean to say, sir, that there are those amongst your friends who cannot be trusted to keep the line? For if that is the case, I promise you that I have had a vast amount of experience in dealing with such gentlemen. I do not fear them.”

“No.” This time the note in his voice was firmer. The gleam of amusement had faded.

They looked at each other, and Philippa found herself thinking that his features were not precisely harsh, after all, but merely weathered, no doubt as a result of his having spent so large a portion of the past years under the open sky. As he had been a soldier, one must expect that such had been the case. He was really rather pleasant-looking, actually. She had liked seeing amusement in his eyes. It was a pity it had gone, a pity, too, that he meant to be difficult. Really, the men of Leicestershire were proving to be an altogether obstinate lot. Or perhaps widowhood had dulled her feminine wiles. She had not been used to have such difficulty in persuading gentlemen to her wishes in the past, and she would, she knew, be particularly annoyed should the viscount prove to be immune to her wiles.

She dimpled, letting her smile come slowly as she raised her hands to fold them between her full, round breasts before leaning coaxingly toward him. “My lord,” she said gently, “surely you cannot mean that you will not allow me to ride even the distance of a few fields with your hunt.”

“I mean precisely that, however.” He responded to her smile, but his own was rueful and his voice was bare of laughter when he continued, “I fear you still have little understanding of what hunting in this county is all about, my lady. ’Tis the pace that kills, not only the fox and horse, but also the nerve of the rider. I have no doubt that you have acquitted yourself well with the Belvoir pack on those days that Rutland allowed his mama or his duchess and her friends to ride with him, or that you have acquired more than a modicum of skill if you have hunted in Yorkshire, which is scarcely humbug country. But for those not brought up to hunting in Leicestershire, the fast pace and hard riding bring little pleasure. After suffering a few crumplers, galloping at a thorn-filled ditch ceases to be fun, whilst any other method of taking it would be suicide. Even the infamous Melton men come and go quickly. Only the most intrepid amongst them lasts more than three or four seasons before his banker’s nerve fails, or he takes a wife, enters Parliament, succeeds to the family estates, or takes his own local hounds. After that, he may return to Melton occasionally, but twenty minutes of a clipping run is all the hunt he wants by then.”

“But you are speaking once again of the general breed,” she objected. “I have been told that one finds three hundred men or more in a field with the Quorn and at least half that many with the Cottesmore. The Wyvern is not so big, surely?”

“No, of course not. I have my pack out for my own pleasure and that of my particular friends, but that does not mean for a moment that riding with the Wyvern would be suitable for a woman. The runs are by far too dangerous and the pace too fast. I do not wish to alienate your friendship, however,” he added, smiling again, “or to give you cause to compare me unfavorably with the duke, so if the idea finds favor, I shall undertake to promise that if my sisters should honor Wyvern Towers with their presence at Christmas as I believe they intend to do, I shall arrange a hunt for your pleasure and theirs as well. Will that satisfy you, ma’am?”

“Oh, how very kind,” Miss Pellerin said, looking anxiously at Philippa. “You will like that prodigiously, my dear.”

Philippa was not at all satisfied by such a compromise, but she realized that she would only put his back up if she pressed her argument any further. That he had not immediately agreed to grant her wish was disappointing but scarcely sufficient cause to cast her into the dismals. She would come about. Therefore, she smiled sunnily at him and assured him that she would above all things enjoy riding out with his sisters.

“Did you say that you had brought the Lady Lucinda to call?” she asked then. “That was kind of you, sir. I know poor Jessalyn has been feeling moped all the weekend, thinking herself sadly neglected one moment and ill-used the next. Nor was she happy to be left with orders to improve her mind by memorizing improving verses both yesterday and today. I fear I am in danger of becoming known as a strict, uncaring stepmother.”

“Nonsense,” replied the viscount stoutly. “ ’Tis no more than either of those young ladies deserves after serving us all such a trick as they did. I should not have succumbed to Lucinda’s entreaties today, except that I was of a mind to call here in any event, and I could not very well leave her behind. At present, Wyvern Towers is scarcely a proper abode for a very young lady.”

“Is it not?” But even as the words were spoken, Philippa realized what he meant. “To be sure, sir, without either of your elder sisters in residence, there can be no proper female to bear her company.”

“She does not even have her own maid,” said Rochford, “I have instructed one of the maidservants to attend her, but the girl is a local and hardly what Lucy is accustomed to. I must arrange to send her back to Bath as soon as possible, and that is why I have come to you. It occurred to me that you might have some notion of how we could send them back together. I have my chaise, but unless I send my own man as well as the maid, I have no servant I would trust with such a minx as Lucinda. I thought perhaps you might know of someone who would answer the purpose.”

“I don’t,” Philippa said frankly. “Moreover, I must tell you, sir, that when I broached the subject of her return to Jessalyn, she pointed out that they will be but turning round again to come back here for Christmas. The Lady Elizabeth Manners is to remain at Belvoir until the new year, you see, which has put it into Jessalyn’s head to insist that she wishes to do likewise. Angry though I am with her, I cannot but see that it is the sensible course to follow.”

Rochford grimaced. “Very likely, but I can tell you it would mean putting my household at sixes and sevens to accommodate Lucinda.”

“I suppose she could come to stay here,” Philippa said slowly. She had not intended that her peaceful interlude should be disturbed by the antics of one young lady playing truant from school, let alone two.

But Rochford was already shaking his head. “That would not do, though you are kindness itself to offer. Such a plan would cut up all your peace. I suppose the sensible thing would be for me to hire a governess-companion for my sister, a good, strict one who would know how to keep her out of mischief. My father will be at Wyvern for Christmas, and will expect to see her there as well, so there can be no great objection to her remaining now if she might be properly attended. How do you suppose one goes about finding a governess in Leicestershire at this time of year?”

“I suppose we might inquire of the Duchess of Rutland. If she does not know of someone herself, I daresay she can tell us how to go about the business.”

“I could give them lessons, you know,” suggested Miss Pellerin calmly.

Philippa chuckled. “You would no doubt do them a great deal of good, ma’am, but if the Lady Lucinda is anything like our Jessalyn, they would be a sad trial to you. I doubt that Jess has two thoughts to rub together in that head of hers that do not have to do with young men and her future prospects.”

“Lucy, too,” said Rochford with a sigh. “A sillier chit I hope never to meet. Her ignorance would appall you, ma’am.”

“On the other hand,” said Philippa thoughtfully, “there is no reason that the pair of us could not undertake to instruct both girls in the sort of lessons they would have had at school. I am quite a dab at sketching, and I play the pianoforte well enough to help them with their practicing … that is, unless the Lady Lucinda plays upon the harp or some other instrument, sir. I confess I should be of little assistance to her in such a case.”

“I’m not by any means certain she plays a musical instrument at all,” said his lordship, grinning. “But, my dear ma’am, I have already said that I do not wish to impose upon your good nature, or Miss Pellerin’s, in such a way.”

“No, you said that you did not wish to burden me with your sister’s continued presence in my house,” Philippa said, smiling back at him and thinking it a pleasant exercise. “You see, sir, that I do not scruple to contradict a gentleman. My manners are not so nice as yours, I fear.”

“You choose to treat this matter lightly, Lady Philippa, but I do not see any reason for inflicting my sister upon you in any way.”

“Oh, but you are wrong, sir. Truly, if Jessalyn remains in Leicestershire, you would be doing me a favor to send the Lady Lucinda to us for lessons. Otherwise, I shall be my stepdaughter’s sole source of entertainment, and that, I must tell you, would not suit me at all. If Lucinda is here to bear her company, Jessalyn’s presence will be a pleasure. If she is to mope about, complaining that there is nothing to do, she will drive me demented.”

“Then you leave me with no more to say,” Rochford told her, his gray eyes resting warmly upon her, “for I should certainly not care to figure as your ticket to Bedlam. What do you propose?”

Finding it difficult to meet that gaze directly, she focused her eyes upon the uppermost button of his waistcoat and said briskly, rather as though she were relaying instructions to her footman, “If you can contrive to deliver Lucinda to us each morning and collect her again in the afternoon, I shall do my possible to see that her time with us is not ill-spent. Between us, Cousin Adeliza and I ought certainly to be able to set lessons for the girls in deportment, sketching, music, and perhaps even some botany, though what they will study outdoors at this time of year, I’m sure I cannot tell you.”

“Oh, I brought a lovely book that will serve us well in that regard,” said Miss Pellerin enthusiastically. “I showed it to you only the other day, Philippa, Mr. Culpepper’s
Herbal
. You will remember—a delightful book with the most detailed drawings of all manner of plants and flowers. The girls will be fascinated.”

Rochford chuckled. “You may contrive to fascinate Lucy with the pictures, ma’am, but if you can get her to read the text, you will truly have worked something of a miracle. I do not think she has read anything except for those dreadful romantic novels girls somehow contrive to get their hands upon no matter what precautions their elders take to prevent their doing so.”

“Nonsense, Rochford,” said Philippa in rallying tones, her amusement making it possible for her to meet his gaze again. “Surely she has read
La Belle Assemblée
and the
Ladies’ Monthly
.”

He grinned at her. “Indeed, ma’am, you are very right, and two sillier magazines for a fourteen-year-old chit I cannot conceive of. Only last evening she was informing me that I simply must send for a modiste to make her a pink gauze tunic dress to wear to parties. The one she showed to me within the pages of
La Belle Assemblée
would be quite amazingly improper on a married woman, let alone on a chit from the schoolroom.”

Philippa sighed, twinkling at him. “I know how it is, sir, for I promise you that Jessalyn can be quite as ridiculous. But, in point of fact, that is how young girls develop sartorial taste, you know. They will not distress me by poring over such stuff as that.”

“No, indeed,” said Miss Pellerin, “for you are quite correct, Philippa. In such a manner do they learn what is suitable and what is not. And if they enjoy magazines, my dear sir, I shall be only too happy to share my Literary Quarterly with them. There are excellent tales to be read there, and every one of unexceptionable quality, I assure you.”

“I do not doubt it, Miss Pellerin, but I fear that even if you could convince Lucy to poke her nose into such a work, she would not understand the half of what she read.”

“Mercy me,” said Miss Pellerin.

“Just so,” returned his lordship with a grimace.

“Never mind all that,” Philippa put in, laughing at both of them. “There is no cause to repine, after all, for have we not just been saying that it does a lady little good to stuff her head full of great literature and learning? Both Jessalyn and Lucinda will do very well for themselves if we can but contrive to bring them to a better sense of what is acceptable behavior and what is not. We can do that very well, Cousin, and so you must admit.”

“Yes, of course, though it does seem a pity that they might never delve into anything more complex than a lady’s magazine,” said Miss Pellerin sadly.

“I think,” Rochford said with gentle tact, “that my sister will benefit merely by being sometimes in your company, ma’am.”

“Why, what a pretty compliment!” Miss Pellerin, flustered, smiled at him, then looked away as though she had been caught quite off her guard. “I venture to say, sir, that no one has said such a thing to me in thirty years. You are very kind.”

“Nothing of the sort,” he retorted, chuckling as he turned his quizzing gaze upon Philippa. “Only ask Lady Philippa if

I am kind. I suspect that she is still at outs with me over that little matter of the hunt. I hope, however, that she will find it in her heart to forgive me before many days have passed.”