Mistress of the Hunt (24 page)

“The others have taken themselves off, I fear,” Rochford said to her, smiling, “and we must collect Lucinda and be on our way.”

“We could not go, however,” said Mr. Drake with his usual formality, “without taking proper leave.”

“How kind,” said Miss Pellerin dryly before turning to Rochford. “Have you heard from your father and sisters, dear boy? Do you anticipate their arrival before Christmas?”

“Indeed, ma’am. My sister Margaret writes that we may expect the party from Leamington Spa by the first of the week if my father’s health permits.”

A moment later the two gentlemen had departed, and Philippa breathed a sigh of relief, giving devout thanks that Rochford had not chosen to demand an explanation for her seemingly outrageous behavior in giving orders that were not hers to give.

T
HE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS PASSED
quickly, for those married hunters who had previously been enjoying the life of the merry bachelor were, in the main, joined by loving wives and children looking forward to spending the holiday with Papa. Fortunately for conjugal relations in these abodes, as well as for the numerous social activities planned by the wives, the weather took a turn for the worse—from a hunter’s viewpoint—and a hard frost succeeded by heavy fog and several days of light snow made sport impossible. To a man the hunters declared themselves dedicated family men and aided and abetted their womenfolk in planning entertainments to pass away the long hours before hunting would be possible again.

Philippa and Miss Pellerin found themselves the gratified recipients of nearly as many invitations as they might have received during the Season in London, and spent their time each morning cheerfully discussing how they would use their day and in making plans for their own rout party to be held on Christmas Eve. To their astonishment, on Tuesday they received a personal invitation from Margaret, Lady Kegworth, to take Christmas dinner at Wyvern Towers with the Drake family. Lady Kegworth, paying a morning call with her little sister, took the opportunity to thank Philippa and Miss Pellerin for all their kind offices on that young lady’s behalf.

“For I am sure she has never thought to thank you properly herself,” said Margaret, smiling down at Lucinda, who had clearly taken her good looks from the same source as her eldest sister.

Lucy flushed and bowed her head, “Oh, Margaret, I did, often and often.”

“To be sure, ma’am, she did,” Philippa said, laughing. She had liked Margaret at once, finding her a merry, cheerful person. Though in her late thirties, or even her forties, she had made no effort to retain the beauty of her extreme youth. The glossy darkness of her hair had been tempered by numerous strands of white, giving it a salt-and-pepper look that was vastly becoming to her fair skin and rosy cheeks. If she had exerted herself in any way at all to retain her former beauty, the effort had been expended on her elegant figure. She wore her red carriage dress with an air that spoke of much use in earlier years of the backboard, but there was also willowy grace to her movements, a grace that Philippa would have given much to be able to imitate.

The ladies from Wyvern stayed no longer than the requisite twenty minutes, but during that time Margaret made it quite clear that Jessalyn, Lord Wakefield, and any guests that might remain at Chase Charley were included in her invitation. “For I am persuaded that we should miss them all if they did not come with you,” she said, laughing and patting her sister’s shoulder. Lucinda blushed deeply, and when they had taken their leave, Philippa chuckled.

“Do you suppose poor Lucy has developed a
tendre
for Edward or one of his friends?”

Miss Pellerin smiled. “Stranger things have happened, my love. She is at an age when young ladies are easily smitten, and her friend’s older brother must always be of interest, I suppose.”

“Well, I hope Edward has better sense than to marry such a goose,” Philippa said, “for he hasn’t much sense himself.”

“It would be a good match,” Miss Pellerin said thoughtfully. “Wyvern would put no rub in the way. Edward will be a wealthy young man, after all.”

Feeling a strong need to divert her cousin’s thoughts at this point, Philippa asked her opinion as to which of several invitations for that evening they ought to accept. The result was that they found themselves at a dinner party that was followed by an evening of childish games in a hunting box on the north side of Melton Mowbray. The cheerful company included Lord Alvanley, Viscount Rochford, and a number of their other acquaintances, as well as Lady Keg worth, her distinguished-looking spouse, and the Earl of Wyvern, a thin, graying man whose pale complexion revealed his lack of good health.

“I trust your father does not overtax his strength by coming out like this,” Philippa said to Rochford when they chanced to meet near the roaring fire shortly after the gentlemen had abandoned their postprandial port in order to join the ladies.

Her hostess was laughingly handing out counters for the Royal Game of Goose, and Rochford accepted his allotment before he replied, “On the contrary, ma’am, I believe that good company bucks the old gentleman up considerably.”

“Mine alwayth enjoyed a good row,” put in Alvanley over his shoulder as he accepted his counters, making no secret of the fact that he had overheard their exchange. “Put him in fine fettle for dayth on end. My uncle lackth his spirit, however. Keep hoping someone’ll put him in a temper that will bring on an apoplectic fit and take the old man off.”

“My lord,” Philippa protested, “surely you cannot mean such a thing!”

“Of a certainty, he does,” Rochford told her, chuckling. “Been living on his expectations of that old man for years now. He’ll be fairly sent to grass if old Arden don’t die and save his groats.”

“True,” Alvanley admitted glumly. “M’ corn factor’s turned awkward now, so I’ve put my man onto fetchin’ biscuits for the horseth instead, but I darethay the confectioner will next wish to be paid.”

Rochford chuckled, exchanging an intimate glance with Philippa that sent warmth coursing through her body. “What’s the word on that latest harebrained scheme you and Brummell have going?” he asked Alvanley as the three of them moved away from the fire toward the table where the spiral gameboard had been set up.

“Not in it yet, myself, but it ain’t harebrained at all,” declared the younger man indignantly. “Have you know Charles and Robert Mannerth are going partnerth with Brummell. That ought to tell you!”

“Tells me Rutland hasn’t got wind of it, is all,” retorted the viscount incorrigibly. Holding Philippa’s chair, he grinned down at her. “They’ve been contracting to pay annuities in return for single cash payments. The interest and possibly even a portion of the principal, if I know them, is used to cover their gaming debts.”

“A risky business, my lord,” said Philippa, cocking her head a little to one side to look up at him.

“Well, I don’t thuppose you really know much about it, ma’am,” Alvanley said kindly, taking his own seat and glancing round the table to assess the competition, “but when I tell you the interest alone amounth to fifteen percent, I darethay that will make you thtare.”

“What will make me stare, sir, is what will happen to you all when the annuities must be paid, and you have spent the money,” she retorted, goaded.

“Here, now, tighten your girth, ma’am. Mean to thay, no intent to give offenth.”

“Then you ought not to have assumed that her ladyship knows nothing of business matters,” Rochford told him, bestowing a keen glance upon Philippa as he took his seat beside her and laid his counters before him.

She smiled blandly at him and received a warm grin in return. Neither of them noticed when their hostess called for the first cast of the dice, but a moment afterward Lord Alvanley said cheerfully, “Lay you five to one in guineath, Rochford, that I overtake you three timeth at least before you reach thirty-three.”

“Done,” said the viscount amiably, turning his attention at last to the game. Not that night nor yet the next when Philippa met him at a caroling party at Oakham Castle did he say a word about the posting and subsequent unposting of the Raynard-Wakefield land. That the news of her downfall had spread all over Leicestershire was clear, for she encountered a number of gentlemen who looked down their noses at her in a smug, superior sort of way, and she noted also, to her chagrin, that Rochford received more than one hearty, congratulatory clap on the shoulders that told her better than words might have done that the complete tale had not yet made all the rounds. Rochford was quick to deny any part in the business, however, and one way or another Edward came in for his full share of the congratulations. She had all she could do, more than once, to stifle angry words of reproach or bitter explanation when her stepson repeated for the umpteenth time that he could not think how she had ever believed she had the right to do anything so corkbrained as what she had done.

By Christmas Eve, most of the uproar seemed to have died away, and Philippa looked forward to the evening with pleasure. Nearly everyone she had invited to her rout party had accepted, including Mr. Drake, Rochford, the viscount’s two sisters, and their husbands, all of whom came early to dine; for, besides the usual conversation that attended such parties, there was to be dancing in the stone hall after dinner when the other guests arrived.

Jessalyn had been quite cast down by the information that she was not old enough yet to make one of the party, and clearly would have indulged herself in a mild tantrum at least, had Philippa not had the fortunate thought to remind her that Father Christmas was like to look askance at such behavior. Although Jessalyn thought herself above a childish display of excitement at the notion of Father Christmas bearing gifts to well-behaved children, she was nonetheless not so foolish as to chance bringing the displeasure of her stepmother down upon herself before she had received her Christmas gift. As a reward for her smiles, she was allowed to sit in Philippa’s bedchamber to watch her prepare for the evening ahead, and when Philippa was dressed, a nod to Alice produced from the wardrobe an exquisite, brightly embroidered round gown of creamy Denmark satin trimmed with blue silk ribbons. Jessalyn sat up in amazement.

“Good gracious, is that for me?”

“It is, my dear,” Philippa said, grinning at her. “I thought you would want something to make the gentlemen stare at Wyvern Towers tomorrow and again when you attend the christening of the young Marquess of Granby at Belvoir next month.”

Jessalyn’s eyes widened still further when Miss Pellerin rushed in, still in her dressing gown, to present her with an embroidered silk reticule to carry when she wore her lovely gown, and to deliver Edward’s present, which proved to be a string of matched pearls, quite the most grown-up present Jessalyn had ever received. It was a very pleased young lady that Philippa left behind when she went downstairs to greet her guests.

Edward, quite puffed up in his own esteem, for this would be the first such party at which he would play host, joined her in the saloon some moments before their first guests were expected to arrive.

“I say, Pippa,” he said grandly, “I’d never have contrived all this off my own bat, you know. Dashed good idea it was. Hope it don’t come on to snow, though, or we shall have them all here through Christmas as well.”

She smiled at him. “If we get no more than the dusting we’ve been getting, you need have no fear of that.”

“Aye, just enough to put a stop to the hunting, but not enough to make the weather interesting,” he grunted. “Just when we might finally have seen some good sport near to home, at that.”

“Edward—” she began warningly.

“Oh, aye, not another word,” he said, shooting her a rueful grin. “Daresay I’ve said more than you want to hear on the subject.”

“You have,” she agreed. Then, as voices were heard from the hall, she hastily smoothed her pale blue satin skirts, adjusted the coral silk bow at her décolletage, and smiled as Miss Pellerin hurried into the saloon from the green drawing room, adjoining it to the west.

Miss Pellerin was out of breath. “My abigail couldn’t seem to get all the hooks on this gown fastened,” she puffed. “I thought I should never be ready in time, and I fairly ran down the west stair. Fortunately, there is an entrance to that drawing room from the stair hall, for since you, Wakefield, are inhabiting the green velvet bedchamber, I could scarce take a course through there. And guests arriving already. Philippa, dearest, is my hair tidy?”

Philippa reassured her, and they turned to greet their guests. Dinner was a success, and the small chamber orchestra that Philippa had hired from Leicester played from the gallery afterward for dancing. Philippa, having danced twice with Rochford and discovered him to be an accomplished partner who made her feel quite as though she were floating, was wondering whether she might dare to stand up with him for a third dance if he were to ask her to do so, when another gentleman trod upon her satin train, tearing nearly three inches of the material from its moorings at her waistline.

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed when she heard the telltale rip.

The gentleman apologized profusely, and she did her best to reassure him that the damage was not irreparable, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Miss Pellerin came hurrying up to her.

“Mercy me, I saw what that clumsy oaf did. Do you come with me into Wakefield’s dressing room, for he will not be wanting it at present, and no one will disturb us while I stitch that up again, which I can do in a trice, for I carry the wherewithal right here in my reticule.”

Thanking her, Philippa followed Miss Pellerin through the west stair hall and an anteroom, to Edward’s dressing room. As expected, the room was empty, and Miss Pellerin effected the repairs with admirable speed. While she worked, she chattered happily on the success of their party, and from sundry observations Philippa was able to deduce that Mr. Drake was in favor again. She commented appropriately when her companion chanced to pause for breath, but when the mending was completed and Miss Pellerin announced brightly that they might now return to the others, Philippa shook her head.