The Gamekeeper's Lady (15 page)

‘Why have you given up shaving?’ she asked.

He stroked his chin with strong square fingers. Mischief shone in his eyes. ‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I’m not sure.’

He placed his hands against the rough trunk, his broad forearms bracketing her head. She drew in a quick breath at the jolt in her stomach. He leaned in for a kiss and she flung her arms around his neck and melded her body to his. After the strain of the morning, it felt wonderful to be in his arms.

He groaned and deepened the kiss, his mouth working magic against her lips, his hands crushing her close.

He broke away, and she was pleased to see he was breathing just as hard as she. ‘Robert—’

‘Someone is coming. Listen.’

Hoof beats approaching fast. ‘Dash it all,’ she muttered.

His dark eyes gleamed. ‘You owe me the rest of that kiss, but for now, start walking.’

They stepped out from behind the shelter of the tree as a black horse and rider leading Pippin stopped to open the gate to the field.

‘Your rescuer arrives,’ Robert said drily.

‘Viscount Lullington.’

He nodded. ‘Watch that man, Frederica.’ His voice held such deep loathing, she couldn’t help but glance at his face. His eyes were narrowed and his shoulders tense.

‘Do you know him?’

His lip curled. ‘I know men like him. He’ll take any advantage.’

‘Oh, he’s not interested in me. He’s in love with Lady Caldwell.’

‘That kind loves only one person. Himself.’

‘Why, Robert,’ she said, her smile growing, ‘are you jealous?’

He glanced at her, his eyes dark, almost bleak. ‘What right do I have for jealousy?’

With a sinking sensation, she realised he’d made no promises to her. ‘Just do not trust that man.’

The viscount was almost upon them. She turned to face him as he leaped from his horse and strode to her side. He appeared not to notice Robert. ‘Are you all right, Miss Bracewell?’

Wishing him elsewhere, she forced a smile. ‘Perfectly fine. Pippin decided I needed a walk.’

He grinned. ‘I am all admiration. Your spirit does you credit. I expected tears and gnashing of teeth.’

Federica could almost hear Robert grind
his
teeth. She gestured towards him. ‘I was fortunate Mr Deveril came along or I might be less sanguine.’

‘Good man,’ the viscount said. He dug into his pocket and flipped a coin to land at Robert’s feet.

Robert stared at it, his face rigid, pride in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, then he bent to retrieve the coin from the dirt. He touched his cap and walked away.

She felt sick and faint. As if he’d been shamed and it was all her fault. She longed to call out an apology, but Robert’s long legs carried him off at a rapid pace.

Meanwhile the viscount was all kind concern. ‘Are you sure you are not hurt, Miss Bracewell?’

Heart aching, she forced herself to answer calmly. ‘P-perfectly sure.’

Lullington looked at her face and then at the retreating Robert. ‘Has he been with your family long?’

‘Just a few weeks,’ she said.

‘He seems like a competent fellow, if rather bold.’

She glanced up to find him staring at her intently, his pale eyes seeming to see into her mind. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he gave a tight smile. ‘Now, Miss Bracewell, do you think you can re-mount this beast?’ He pointed to Pippin.

Aware of prickling heat creeping up her face, she nodded. ‘I can.’

‘Pluck to the backbone. Let me give you a hand.’

He led her to Pippin and she noticed how soft the leather of his gloves and how long and languid his fingers were. A shudder ran down her spine as if she’d brushed past a cobweb in the dark. Such nonsense. He was a dandy. A nobleman. She was wrong to compare him with the hard-working Robert.

With Maisie looking on, her face a picture of envy, Frederica twisted to look at her back in the mirror. Wings. Made of the sheerest material and dusted with sequins, they looked almost real. The gown made her look taller, more shapely. ‘It is supposed to represent Titania from
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Mrs Phillips did a wonderful job.’

‘You look like a fairy an’ all, miss,’ Maisie said. ‘My ma used to tell me about them. Don’t walk in the fairy circle, she always used to say. Toadstools, they was.’

With a smile, Frederica ran her hands down the front of her sheer gown of browns and soft greens.

Maisie went to work with the hairbrush and Frederica let her thoughts wander. What would Robert think if he saw her now? Would he approve? Or would he stare at her with those fathomless dark eyes and tell her that she looked like a damned peacock? Pretty, but useless.

She couldn’t prevent a small smile. Yes, that was indeed what the blunt, unpolished man would say. And after tonight, after her one and only ball, she would never look like a peacock again. Why, she might even dance the night away on the arm of a handsome gentleman. She sighed. If only that gentleman could be Robert, it would be the best night of her life.

A knock sounded on the door. ‘Who is it?’

‘Maggie. May I come in?’

‘Please do.’

Maggie looked simply ravishing. A vision. Frederica felt quite dull and plain as she took in the gauzy trousers and soft veils of midnight-blue covered in sequins. The dress of an exotic eastern harem girl. Bangles jingled on her wrists and around her ankles, and a heavy gold choker fringed with coins hugged her elegant neck. Her eyes, rimmed with kohl, peeped over the top of a goldedged veil.

The brush was held suspended over Frederica’s head as Maisie let her mouth hang open.

‘You look beautiful,’ Frederica said.

The dark-eyed siren ran her gaze over Frederica. Her finely plucked brows shot up. ‘Oh, my dear. You are simply divine.’ She floated across the room to finger the fabric. ‘Look how cleverly she dags the hem and so much fabric. If I had only thought of it.’ She shook her head. ‘But no. My curves were never meant to play a wood sprite. I would look like a gnome. My dear, you will be the belle of the ball.’

‘Fine feathers make fine birds,’ Frederica said with a laugh, quoting one of Mortimer’s favourite sayings.

Maisie began brushing again.

‘And modest too. So refreshing. My dear, you must come to London. They will adore you.’

Until they discovered who she was, then she would be ostracised. Uncle Mortimer had made that very plain. And that was why she did not understand why Simon’s parents were going along with his uncle’s betrothal plans. But apparently they were. There was only one way out, she’d realised in the dark of her room late last night. She’d have to tell Simon she was a fallen woman. He’d be so disgusted, he’d have to cry off.

She’d offer to save him a whole lot of embarrassment by disappearing.

She could do it without getting Robert into trouble. No one would need to know who had debauched her, any more than they knew who had debauched her mother.

All she needed was a few private words with Simon and she would be free to live her own life.

Unfortunately, Simon spent all his time glued to the viscount’s side while Lord Lullington looked bored nigh unto death.

Tomorrow, after the ball, she’d find a way to get Simon alone.

While Maisie finished brushing Frederica’s hair, Maggie wandered around the room, touching the bed, pulling open the curtains to stare out of the window, strolling back to the dressing table. Restless energy rolled off her in waves.

She spun about. ‘How will you wear your hair?’

‘Miss always has it in a knot,’ Maisie said.

Maggie tilted her head to one side. ‘Wear it down.’

‘Too fine,’ Frederica said. ‘It doesn’t have a scrap of curl.’ Unlike the older woman’s luxuriant waves.

Maggie picked up the headdress, a simple wreath of silk flowers in yellow, pink and white, wound around with ivy leaves. ‘You are wrong. Pin it up at the sides so it falls down your back and leaves your neck and shoulders bare.’ With a hairpin, she caught one side up, then added another. She popped the circlet on Frederica’s head so it settled high on her brow. ‘Like so. What do you think?’

It made her look young and vulnerable, and…well almost pretty. ‘I like it.’ She smiled at Maggie’s reflection. ‘I really do. But it will not stay.’

‘More pins,’ Maggie cried. ‘Fasten those pieces we pulled back to the circlet. That will hold them in place.’ Once more she looked at Frederica like a bird eyeing a worm. ‘Earbobs.’

Frederica blinked. ‘I don’t have any.’

Maggie looked surprised. ‘No? I know. I will lend you some of mine. Sapphires?’ She shook her head. ‘Diamonds. Nothing but diamonds will do. You will provide the colour and they the light.’

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t.’

‘But you shall.’ The lady had a determined gleam in her eye and a stubborn set to her jaw.

And Frederica could not think of a reason to refuse. She smiled. ‘Then thank you.’

‘Oooh. This is so exciting. Wait a moment while I fetch them.’

‘What a nice lady,’ Maisie said as Maggie scurried out of the door. ‘And pretty too.’

How nice to have a friend for the first time in her life. There had been a lot of firsts just lately. ‘Very pretty. Thank you, Maisie, for your help. I am sure there are lots of things you are needed for downstairs. You can go now.’

‘Aye. Mrs Doncaster is fair fit to burst she’s that busy.’ Maisie packed up the pins and tidied the dressing table.

‘I suppose Cook did not want to lose you to me this afternoon.’

Maisie grinned. ‘Mums the word on that, miss. Oh, and by the way, I was to tell you that your uncle wants to see you in the library before the other guests arrive.’ She bobbed a curtsy and headed for the door, standing back for a moment to allow Maggie to enter carrying a leatherbound case, before she hurried away.

‘Here you are, my dear Frederica.’ She set the case down on the dressing table, and pulled forth a string of the most gorgeous diamonds, a delicate strand of little teardrops with earbobs to match. She fastened the necklace around Frederica’s throat and stood back to admire. ‘Perfect. Now the earrings.’ Frederica turned back to the mirror and gasped. ‘It is lovely, but I can’t wear something so valuable.’

‘Nonsense. It is not half as lovely as you, my dear. You will outshine everyone.’

Frederica swung around to face her. ‘Oh, no! How can you say such a thing?’

The other woman sighed and patted her hand. ‘I’m not much prone to think of others, but for some odd reason I like you.’ She laughed. It sounded a little brittle. ‘And Lull will be so proud of me when I tell him, he will no doubt buy me the pearls I have been after.’

Frederica couldn’t help laughing at her naughty grin.

‘And now I must be off,’ Maggie said. ‘My poor Forester is quite in a fit about my headdress. Apparently, it needs work.’ She stood in the doorway and blew a kiss. ‘I will see you downstairs.’

Frederica felt rather as if a whirlwind had blown in and out of the room. She took a deep breath. Time to visit Uncle Mortimer. Hopefully he would not be too shocked at this gown.

Simon and Uncle Mortimer rose on her entry into the study. They looked quite splendid. For once, Uncle Mortimer was not wearing his old-fashioned frock coat. Although not in costume, he looked magnificent in a black coat with silver buttons and satin knee breeches. He’d even powdered his best wig. She made her curtsy. ‘You wanted to speak with me, Uncle?’

As Mortimer looked her up and down, his pink nose quivered. Oh, dear. Perhaps she would not be attending the ball after all.

‘I say, coz,’ Simon said, his eyes bulging worse than usual above his mountain of neckerchief. ‘You look splendid. Where did you get the jewels?’

‘Lady Caldwell l-l—’

‘Lent them to you,’ Simon said. ‘Most obliging. Is she not the most delightful of creatures?’

Uncle Mortimer grunted, but gestured her to sit. ‘We need to talk about this evening.’

She perched on the chair. ‘Yes, Uncle.’

‘Mind your manners and behave as you ought. Do not mention your mother and things should come off well enough.’

She stiffened. ‘I don’t know why Simon wishes to marry me, when you are all so ashamed of my connections.’

Simon’s mouth opened and closed. He gulped. Small beads of perspiration lined his loose top lip. ‘Really, coz. A pleasure.’

If that was the truth, why did he sound so anxious?

Uncle Mortimer glowered at him before turning his attention back to Frederica. ‘You should be grateful he is willing to make the sacrifice.’

‘Good for the family name,’ Simon added, looking as grave as an undertaker.

‘Gratitude is in the eye of the beholder,’ Frederica said, her anger making the words come out in one go.

Mortimer’s mouth dropped open. ‘Damn stupid saying.’ He pointed a shaking finger at her face. ‘Listen to me, young lady. One wrong word out of you, one syllable astray, and you’ll find yourself in the workhouse. Do I make myself clear?’

‘I say. By Jove, Uncle. A bit harsh, what? I’m sure m’cousin don’t need reminding of our charity. She knows her place.’ Simon gave her one of his pleading looks. He hated a fuss. Frederica wanted to take each end of his stupid cravat and pull hard.

She certainly wasn’t going to get any sense out of him at this moment. He always did what Mortimer said, but if he thought he had any say in her life now or in the future, he was in for a surprise.

She bowed her head to hide her thoughts. ‘I understand, Uncle.’

Mortimer looked her up and down. ‘What is Lady Radthorn thinking? You are almost naked. I’ve a damned good mind to lock you in your room.’ If truth be told, he’d probably like to drag her into his underground tunnel and feed her worms. Or feed her to the worms.

‘No need to make a fuss, Uncle. I’m sure it’s all the crack,’ Simon said, surprising Frederica. ‘You should see what the ladies wear in London.’

‘I doubt they are ladies,’ Uncle Mortimer grumbled.

She wasn’t exactly a lady either. She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling.

Finally composed enough to raise her gaze, she caught both men looking at each other with a sort of satisfied smirk. Now what were they up to? ‘Will there be anything else, Uncle?’