The Rogue's Reluctant Rose (15 page)

Surprise was painted across his handsome face as he regarded her over the table. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it had not been that. He stared at her for a moment.

“You would not mind if she did? She can be a very excitable child.”

“Oh, no, I would not mind in the least. I am very fond of children.” She smiled reassuringly for good measure, keeping her face as innocent as possible.

Chestleton regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, as though trying to understand some motive behind her offer, or perhaps to ascertain that she was not merely being polite. He had expected for them to be alone on the picnic, had seen it, in fact, as a prime opportunity to continue his seduction, but that would not be possible if Charlotte were to be introduced into the tableau. And yet, it certainly brought in an interesting dynamic to add Charlotte to the equation. He wondered what she would make of Araminta, and what Araminta would make of the little girl.

At last, he nodded slowly. “Very well, then, my rose. If you wish it, it will be so.” Araminta flushed slightly at the endearment, but could not help smiling with relief at his words. The marquis would not dare behave improperly towards her in the presence of his niece.

Chestleton barely touched the rest of his breakfast, and quickly retired to the privacy of his study. Araminta had expressed a desire to see the library, and Chestleton had a servant lead her there. It was a fine collection, though the Dillwood library was nothing compared to the library at Cheslteton Castle.

In the study, Chestelton leaned back into a comfortable leather chair, and stared out of the window. The study window afforded him a fine view of the fields beyond. It was a handsome stretch of countryside, but it entirely failed to hold his attention as he mulled over what he had told Araminta about Charlotte. It had been necessary, of course, for the good of his intentions concerning the lovely Miss Barrington, among other things. Yes, it was surely the only way to get around what might otherwise be a
very
significant obstacle.

Besides, there were things that he himself did not like to think about. Things buried deep inside his soul, wounds that would reopen at the slightest prod.

And so he would maintain the necessary façade. Charlotte was too young yet to question his word or ask too many questions, and for this he was sorely grateful.

***

Mrs Becker herself had come to help Araminta dress for the picnic, assisted by another young maid. Harriet had sent over a rider bearing a valise of Araminta’s things and a letter for her sister-in-law, where she expressed her concern for Araminta’s health and wishes for a speedy recovery. The letter was written in such heartfelt tones as only Harriet could have expressed in writing, and it warmed Araminta’s heart to read the familiar hand.

My dearest sister,

I cannot begin to express my relief that you have come to no great harm and are being safely looked after on the Dillwood estate. When you did not come back before that dreadful thunder storm, I immediately began to worry about you, but Kitty reasoned that you must have taken shelter down at the village or the vicarage. I must say that I fretted all of that night and the next day when you failed to come home! We had just sent out riders to look for you, when we received a letter from the Marquis of Chestleton assuring us that you were safely in the care of
his housekeeper at Dillwood Park. No one thought to send to the Dillwood house because, as far as we knew, the Joscelins had quitted the place and had not yet found a tenant. I confess I had gone clear out of my mind with worry when the letter arrived. His lordship says that you have fallen ill on account of having been caught in the rain. He assures me that a doctor has been called and you are certain to recover fully in the care of his Mrs Becker, whom he paints to be a very sensible woman.

I confess I do not remember his lordship very well, though I recall him to have been a good friend of dear Charles. Is he not also the gentleman whom you found to be so vexing up in London? I admit to being perplexed to discover that the new tenant was none other than Lord Chestleton. It is a curious coincidence indeed. Why would he wish to rent the Dillwood home, when he has his own estate, by all accounts quite grand? It is all very strange.

I am very relieved to hear that you are fast recovering, and I long to visit you, but his lordship assures me that you will be home in a matter of days. I am also quite loath to leave little Henry, who is teething, and has been crying constantly since you went riding. How are you feeling, my poor dear? It was very distressing to hear that you were so poorly. And I feel that the fault is entirely my own. It had skipped my mind that you did not know that the Joscelins were not at home, and no doubt you had gone that way to call on them. His lordship is quite right in that you must wait till you are fully healed before embarking on your way home. I have also sent you a bag of necessities, which I am certain will be more than enough for the duration of your stay.

I cannot wait to have you safely home, and anxiously await your arrival,

Your concerned sister,

H.

PS. I have been simply flooded with letters from Sir Timothy asking after you, my dear. You must write him as soon as you are home.

Araminta read the letter with the greatest of pleasure. It was always good to hear from Harriet, and she felt relief that Harriet now knew her to be safe. She was also gratified to know that the baronet was concerned for her. She wrote back, assuring Harriet that she was quite well, thanking her for the valise and urging her not to blame herself for the debacle.

In between debating which dress Araminta was to wear and apologising that there was no lady’s maid in residence, Mrs Becker talked at great length about the house, the county and his lordship.

From her words, Araminta gleaned that they had not been in residence a month, and that his lordship had taken the place because of its proximity to London, which was to better advantage than his own residence. Mrs Becker seemed to have taken a liking to Araminta, because she spoke with unguarded appreciation for the people of the village (who were found to be nothing if not full of courtesy and friendliness), the location (which was declared charmingly scenic), and the vicar (a kind old bachelor if ever there was one).

“Let me say, Miss Barrington, if you will permit it,” the old woman said as she dressed Araminta’s long, dark tresses, “that it is very good to have a young lady about again. The previous Lady Chestleton, his current lordship’s mother, passed from us many years ago, and she was a very lovely woman. His lordship has been quite melancholy of late — oh! But I mustn’t say. Only, it is good to see him go picnicking once more. It was very kind of you to ask for Charlotte to go along. A very sweet child, but his lordship is often gone to London and she is lonely here without company.”

“I assure you, it is nothing. No doubt it will be a pleasure. I am sure that she is as good a little girl as I believe her to be,” said Araminta, smiling softly at Mrs Becker.

When she was ready, Araminta took a final look at herself in the mirror and smiled bravely at her own reflection. She hoped that her determination that all should go well at the picnic would pay off. She was somewhat nervous about spending time with Chestleton and his niece. The scene that played out in her mind was unsettlingly familial. Still, it would keep him from further flirtation and she would be very careful not to lose her heart to the enigmatic marquis.

Araminta descended the stairs to find Chestleton waiting for her impatiently at the foot of the staircase. He looked up at her irritably, about to berate her for that habit common to all women of taking an eternity to complete her dress and toilette. However, the words died on his lips as his eyes fell upon her entrancing form.

She wore a simple gown of cream muslin, delicately embroidered in green and dark blue, in a pattern of flowers and butterflies. The blue thread brought out the colour of her dark blue eyes and magnified it in a manner that was most becoming. Her hands were clad in matching lace gloves, and her hair pinned back in a bun, with fashionable, cropped curls framing her face. A charming straw hat with a shallow crown perched becomingly on her head. She carried a pretty parasol of Chinese silk, and when she saw Chestleton she paused for a fraction of a second, her eyes locking with his before she continued her descent. Her lush, pink lips curled into a slight, shy smile, and her eyes were dancing as she returned his scrutiny without averting her gaze.

Chestleton moved forward to bow over her hand and help her down the last few steps, and in her high spirits, Araminta found herself overtaken by an unaccountable brassiness.

“Why thank you, my lord,” she said flirtatiously. “How gentlemanly you are. One might almost believe that you are not at all the dastardly libertine your reputation paints you to be.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt a thrill of terrified exhilaration, wondering what could have possessed her to speak as she had. Her eyes, however, betrayed nothing of this inner turmoil. This was madness, a part of her protested. Utter madness. She was playing with fire, flirting with a known libertine. She ought to cease right away and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had been said. And yet another part argued that she was a guest in the rake’s house, she had had dinner with him, spent time with him unchaperoned... And now she had agreed to picnic with him and his niece! If this was truly madness, then she was too far gone for a little flirtation to make much difference. One look at his wicked smile confirmed this — she was in over her head, and minor improprieties could hardly push her deeper into the ocean in which she was already drowning.

Chestleton raised an eyebrow at her words. “I am not sure, Miss Barrington, whether I ought to be flattered or offended. Instead, allow me to simply compliment your fine ensemble, and observe that your eyes look very striking today, as a gentleman would. I will say nothing of how ravishing you are.”

Although she had been expecting it, Araminta was once again shocked by his forward manner. She blushed, but she was saved from replying by the sound of approaching voices and feet. Mrs Kingston entered, with Charlotte behind her, chattering excitedly.

“Ah, Kingston, there you are. Good,” said Chestleton, suddenly all gentility. “And Charlotte of course. Have you been a good girl, my dear?” he asked, while the governess greeted Araminta.

“Oh, yes, Uncle, I have. I recited my poetry this morning, and Mrs Kingston said it was all correct.
And
I have revised my French conversation.”

Chestleton chuckled warmly, and ruffled the little girl’s hair. ”Now, don’t forget to greet Miss Barrington.”

“Oh no, Uncle. How do you do, Miss Barrington?” Charlotte asked shyly. “What a pretty dress you have. I adore butterflies. Mrs Kingston ties my ribbon into butterflies for my hair, don’t you, Kingston?”

“Indeed I do, Miss Barrington.”

Araminta couldn’t but be charmed by the child’s lively manner. “Why, thank you, Charlotte. You must look like a real princess in your butterfly ribbons.”

Delightedly, the girl continued talking about her lessons, and how happy she was to be out of the schoolroom for the day.

“Shall we?” said Chestleton in a tone of voice Araminta could not identify as she accepted his arm. The servants were waiting for them outside, bearing blankets and baskets of food and a butterfly net for Charlotte.

They set off to where two open carriages were waiting for them on the gravel drive in front of the house.

“It is not a very long ride, Miss Barrington, but we have a lake on the grounds, as I am sure you are aware, and it is a very good spot for a picnic.”

Charlotte, who had only seen the lake once from the carriage, immediately enquired whether there was a boat, and if so whether they might go out in it. No amount of hushing from her governess seemed to be able to suppress her youthful excitement, and far from any expectations Minta might have had, the marquis did not seem to mind.

This, too, was a puzzling morsel for her to contemplate. She had never given any thought to his manner around children, because in her mind, men of his reputation were never associated with children outside stories of mistresses and illegitimacy. But whatever she might have expected, it was not this indulgent patience, rare not only in uncles but even in fathers. His manner seemed to have completely won over the little girl, and there was none of the shy reserve in the child which might sometimes be found in a young charge towards a strict father or guardian.

The lake on the Dillwood estate was not a large one, but it offered a pleasant respite in the summer, surrounded by tall, shady trees and fed by a merry, bubbling stream. The grass was particularly green and springy thanks to the heavy summer rains they had been having and the sun was clear, promising a very pleasant day.

They selected a spot under an old, shady beech tree for their picnic, which delighted Araminta, who had climbed that very tree when she was only a few years younger than Charlotte was now.

Mrs Becker and the cook had outdone themselves in preparing a veritable feast for their picnic, packing no less than two full baskets. While waiting for the blankets and food to be laid out, Araminta, Chestleton and Charlotte explored their surroundings. Mrs Kingston gladly accepted Chestleton’s offer that she remain in the shade, as she felt that she was much too old to participate in any exploration.

They wandered along the rocky shore of the lake, which was a beautiful deep blue in the bright sunlight, at last walking along a short, narrow wooden jetty, with Charlotte skipping excitedly ahead. There was indeed a small rowboat hidden under the jetty, no doubt taken out of the boathouse by the estate manager at Chestleton’s request. Araminta couldn’t help noticing the pleasure on his face at Charlotte’s obvious delight.

“Look, Uncle, Miss Barrington!” the child exclaimed, “There is indeed a boat! Oh, but I suppose Miss Barrington does not care for boats.” The last was said in a cajoling tone for which Kingston would have berated her at length were she near enough to hear it.