The Wagered Wife (20 page)

“Look. The left horse.”

“Yea. His front leg.”

“ 'e's a' favorin' it.”

“Something is definitely wrong with that horse's foreleg.”

This word made its way through the crowd as Caitlyn watched Trevor guide the team off the track.

“Come.” She tugged at Theo's arm only vaguely aware of the race continuing behind her. Melanie and Andrew followed closely.

When they reached Trevor and the team, they found a number of people had already gathered. Trevor jumped down from the driver's seat. Jack and Clarence Tanner stood holding the harness at the team's heads, calming the animals. Trevor was running his hand over the front legs of the left horse. The horse was skittish, obviously distrustful. Clarence crooned comforting works to it as Trevor continued the examination. Caitlyn moved closer.

When he lifted the horse's right foreleg to examine the hoof, Caitlyn saw it even as Trevor said, “Aha. Here's the problem.” With his finger, he tried to dislodge the stone they all saw.

“Here.” Someone thrust a small, dull hook into his hand. He popped the stone out with the hook.

Trevor picked up the stone, looked at it, and handed it to Caitlyn. It was small and sharp and must have hurt like the very devil, she thought. She handed it to Clarence, who drew in a long whistling breath. The horse put its foot down gingerly and looked around as though to say “thank you.”

Trevor patted him on the neck. “You are all right now, boy.” Then he turned pain-filled eyes to Caitlyn. “I'm sorry, Caitlyn. I am so very sorry. I wanted to do this for you.” He lifted his arms in a helpless gesture.

Without an instant of hesitation and without consciously considering her actions or their audience—seeing only his need and her need to answer it—she walked into his arms and felt them enfold her tightly.

“Never mind, darling, never mind.” Her arms around his neck, she held his head close, the endearment had come unplanned, unbidden. “You did the right thing in stopping. It would have been unconscionable to do otherwise.”

Suddenly aware of others, she stepped back, but Trevor kept one arm around her waist, as though he were reluctant to break the contact.

Clarence held up the stone for others to see. “Thing like this could do real damage to a horse. Maybe even cripple him permanently. Good job you stopped, sir.”

The horsemen in the crowd agreed.

Trevor's brow wrinkled in consternation. “I'm wondering where this stone came from. All we see here are smooth round pebbles.”

“That's right,” someone said in surprise.

“ 'Twas a good race,” someone else said. “Shame it had to be stopped.”

“Couldn't be helped, though,” another replied.

A large, middle-aged man with a distinguished air about him shouldered his way through the crowd. He handed Trevor a card.

“My name is Nelson, sir. I represent the Duke and Duchess of Blasingstoke.” The man's tone was authoritative but hearty.

“Yes?” Trevor responded:

“Those are damned fine looking animals. Begging your pardon, ma'am.” Nelson lifted his hat in Caitlyn's direction. “I like a man who protects his cattle. I am interested in buying this team right now, and I would like to discuss others you may have available now or later.”

Caitlyn listened quietly as Trevor invited Nelson to Atherton to look over other carriage horses. She caught the eye of Ratcliff, who gave her an encouraging grin. Blasingstoke was known to keep one of the finest stables in the realm.

Later, Caitlyn and Trevor shared their carriage with Melanie and Andrew on the return to Atherton.

“I must say,” Melanie observed, “you two seem to have turned a possible disaster into a triumph!”

“That we have,” Trevor replied, but it was Caitlyn's gaze he held as he turned to her on the seat next him. “Disaster to triumph,” he said softly as he brought his lips soundly down upon hers. She knew he meant far more than the horse race.

“Drew, darling,” Melanie asked in an ultra-casual tone, “do you feel we are perhaps a trifle
de trop
at the moment?”

 

 

The next few days were among the happiest of Caitlyn's life. Soon all of their guests had departed except for Melanie and her family. Caitlyn and Trevor were rarely out of each other's sight, though they shared a great many of their daylight hours with the rest of the family.

Perhaps, Caitlyn mused, she had not captured her husband's heart as Juliet had Romeo's. Perhaps that kind of love existed only in stories and never—or rarely—in real life. The truth was, he had made a great personal sacrifice in agreeing to run that race for her and for Jeffries Farms. She could not but be grateful to him. She could not help loving him for the man he was.

The work schedules and routine training in the stables continued as before—with one exception. The groom Mason had disappeared. In discussing this strange occurrence, Trevor and Caitlyn recalled that, not only was Mason the last person to examine the grays, he had also been working in the next stall when Tom was injured.

“Do you suppose he deliberately tried to undermine our success?” Caitlyn asked Trevor.

“He had opportunity and he is gone now, but that hardly constitutes proof.”

“So—we may never know the truth.” Wanting the matter brought to a neat, tidy conclusion, Caitlyn was mildly frustrated by their lack of answers.

“Who hired him?” Trevor asked. “Jack said he was new. How new?”

“He came to Atherton after we went to town for the season.”

“But who actually hired him?”

“I suppose Felkins did, but he would have consulted with Jimmy or Mr. Tanner, I am certain.”

“Do we know where he came from? Did he have references we could check?” Trevor persisted.

“References can be forged. I honestly do not know where he came from. Perhaps Mr. Felkins can tell us.”

When Mr. Felkins presented himself, the steward seemed agitated and embarrassed when asked if he knew anything of Mason.

“I think I know more now than I did when he arrived. You know what the sages say of hindsight.”

“I do not understand,” Caitlyn said.

“He came with proper recommendations and all. Seemed good with the stock, though he kept to himself a lot, the others tell me. After he disappeared, it hit me. Don't know why it did not occur to me earlier.”

“What?
What
hit you?” Caitlyn's patience was wearing thin.

“
Mason
was Mrs. Bassett's maiden name.”

“They were related?” Trevor asked. Caitlyn had explained earlier about dismissing the housekeeper and the woman's seemingly idle threats.

“Perhaps her threats were not so idle, after all,” Trevor noted. “We could ask the magistrate to question her—for all the good it might do.”

“That would be difficult,” Felkins said. “She's gone. Left the area—along with Mason, it seems. Some say she is living with a sister in Sussex. Word is she had a fierce quarrel with her son-in-law. Looks like she will be gone a good long while.”

“As I said, we may never know the truth,” Caitlyn said.

“Perhaps we learned
something,
though,” Trevor said. When Caitlyn and Mr. Felkins stared at him with curiosity, he continued, “We know now to keep a closer watch on new people until they prove themselves.”

With that, the matter was closed, and Caitlyn concentrated on enjoying the interlude before the journey to Timberly.

She knew she would remember these days as an idyllic time. The two sets of young parents decided to teach their daughters to ride. Trevor found two small ponies on a neighboring farm, and squeals of delight from the little girls mingled with laughter and advice from their parents.

Aunt Gertrude joined them on some of their outings and for most meals. Several times, Caitlyn caught the older woman eyeing her nephew and his wife with a satisfied look. One morning as Caitlyn sat in the sun room idly catching up on gossipy items in the newspaper, Aunt Gertrude came in.

“Caitlyn, my dear, might I have a serious word with you?”

Caitlyn immediately set aside the newspaper. “What is it?”

“Nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you.”

Caitlyn relaxed, but waited with anticipation.

“You may remember that when I first came to Atherton, I told you I would stay as long as you needed me?”

“Y-yes . . .” Caitlyn was fearful of where this was leading.

“Well, it occurs to me that you no longer have need of a chaperon—or a companion. It would appear that you and Trevor have resolved the differences between you. In fact, I would wager that you are quite content now.”

“Yes. I am. But while I may have little need of a chaperon, I still very much welcome your company.”

“I know you do, my dear. And I am ever so grateful for that. But I think I should like to spend more time in town.”

“You would leave us?” Caitlyn could not help the wailing note of despair in her tone.

“Not permanently, dear. I know you have little interest in spending more time in the city, but I should like to be there for the little season.”

“You
will
come back then?”

“But of course.”

Caitlyn rose from her chair to sit next to the older woman on a settee and put her arm around her shoulder. “Aunt Gertrude, you must know that you are precious to me. I went without a mother for so many years—and then there
you
were.”

“Thank you, love.” Aunt Gertrude had tears in her eyes.

“Very well,” Caitlyn said in a parody of granting permission. “You may go to town, if you must, but you will promise to come back and I will keep your room always ready for you. You must join us for Christmas, though.”

“I should love to. Thank you for understanding, Caitlyn dear.”

“Oh! And you
will
go to Timberly with us, will you not? I really do not think I could face Trevor's mother without you by my side.”

Caitlyn and Trevor had agreed to accompany Melanie and Andrew back to Timberly for the all-important Harvest Festival. Caitlyn dreaded the encounter, but she knew it was important for Trevor to make this visit. There was, of course, the matter of his father's health. But Caitlyn thought he needed this meeting to achieve a sense of completion to a particularly painful aspect of his life. Now she was begging Aunt Gertrude to see her through yet another crisis.

“I would not miss it for the world,” the intrepid Lady Gertrude Hermiston said.

A caravan of carriages—five in all—set off for Timberly in the southwest section of England. The Jeffries and Sheffield families had two vehicles each, and since Aunt Gertrude planned to proceed to London from Timberly, she traveled in her own coach.

It was a long, tiring journey, though they planned a leisurely pace with comfortable stops at inns along the way. To relieve the boredom, the occupants of the carriages switched places periodically. They also read aloud from books—mostly novels—they had chosen for the trip.

Still, there was a good deal of time for conversation, and Caitlyn learned all about the Timberly Harvest Festival one afternoon as she sat comfortably leaning against Trevor across from Melanie and Andrew.

“It began,” Melanie explained, “as a religious gathering to offer thanks for good crops and it just grew from that.”

“Needless to say, there is a great deal of tradition about it, too,” Trevor said. “For instance, the earl is expected to bring a sack of his own grain to the mill to be ground.”

Melanie gave a little laugh. “In former times, it was a huge sack that he was expected to hoist to his shoulders. Nowadays, it is largely symbolic—weighing about ten pounds—a stone or two at most.”

Trevor went on. “The resulting flour—or some of it—is baked into a loaf that is shared at a huge dinner for the entire estate.”

“That must be quite a loaf,” Caitlyn observed.

Melanie smiled. “Oh, it is. But it is merely a symbol for all the other loaves that arrive.”

Caitlyn could not resist asking, “And does Lord Wyndham provide fishes as well?”

The others were momentarily puzzled, then hooted with laughter. Trevor gave her a gentle pinch on the arm.

“Do not be sacrilegious, my dear.”

She ignored this. “Is there anything else I should know about this grand affair?”

“Hmm. Well,” Trevor said, “it goes on for three days. It is really like a country fair or market.”

Melanie added, “There are jugglers and clowns, Gypsy fortune tellers, and acrobats. It truly is great fun.” “And the beer flows freely,” the usually quiet Andrew put in.

“It culminates with a grand ball in the great hall.” Melanie smiled in anticipatory delight.

“The great hall?” Caitlyn asked.

Melanie shot her brother an exasperated look. “Honestly, Trevor, have you told her nothing of your youth, your boyhood home? What
do
the two of you talk about?—Whoops! Never mind answering that.”

“Honestly, Melanie,” her brother imitated her tone, “do you ever
think
before you speak? And you married to a diplomat!”

Melanie gave him a saucy look, stuck out her tongue quickly, and then focused on Caitlyn. “Timberly was once a castle.”

“A castle?”

Trevor explained. “A rather modest castle even in its heyday. The moat is long since gone, and the wall that once surrounded the keep and other buildings was used as a quarry for houses and barns on tenant farms.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“As children we loved the place with its strange rooms and passageways.” Melanie leaned forward with childlike excitement. “There is even a ghost in the tower.”

“Melanie, you know very well it is the wind that makes that strange noise.”

Melanie ignored Trevor's interruption. “But it is a friendly ghost. She was a beautiful daughter of the third earl who pined away when her father refused to allow her to wed the man she loved. He died in battle and she never married. Now she wanders the battlements calling her lover's name.”

Trevor snorted. “ 'Tis the wind. And there are no battlements.”

“There once were. Besides, my tale is far more romantic than ‘ 'tis the wind.' Do you not agree, Caitlyn?”

“Oh, of course.”

Caitlyn was grateful for this lighthearted banter. Not only was she learning about what to expect when they arrived, she was gaining further insight into the life experiences that had shaped the man she willingly admitted—if only to herself—that she loved. The discussion also diverted her from worrying about the reception she herself might receive at Timberly. Could she endure for the planned three weeks?

In the event, the earl received her cordially. His second son, Marcus, was warm but initially somewhat reserved in greeting this sister-in-law he had not met before. However, there was no reservation at all in the greeting between Marcus and Trevor. Although Marcus was some years older, Caitlyn sensed genuine affection between these two brothers—the same regard for each other that characterized Trevor's friendship with Theo and, to a certain extent, with Andrew.

If one were to judge another by the respect he or she commanded, Caitlyn thought, then her husband was a very worthy man indeed.

Gerald was aloof but carefully polite to her. Miranda and the countess were cool in acknowledging her. Melanie had assured her that the earl would ensure a guest's comfort, and now Caitlyn surmised that the countess and Miranda had had strict orders to behave themselves. Nevertheless, it was clear to Caitlyn that these two women found her presence distasteful.

Caitlyn, however, was determined to see this thing through—for Trevor's sake. Had he not taken over that race for
her?
She could do this much for him.

By the second day of the visit, Caitlyn was aware of the “protection” that others were according her. When the whole family gathered, Trevor never left her side. If the ladies met separately, Melanie or Aunt Gertrude always maneuvered to place themselves as buffers between Caitlyn and her mother-in-law and the mother-in-law's favorite daughter-in-law.

A few days after the arrival of the Atherton visitors, the castle began to fill with other guests. These were largely members of the ton—leaders of society and important members of political and financial circles. The women seemed to take their cue from the countess, according Caitlyn cool, grudging admission to their circle.

One afternoon as the gentlemen were off on a shooting expedition, the ladies met for tea in the drawing room. Caitlyn felt Miranda gaze at her in a calculated manner. When Caitlyn caught her eye, Miranda looked away with a haughty shrug.

“Such a shame,” Miranda said to the room at large, “that La Contessa Oliveira could not come to the Harvest Festival.”

“I did invite her,” the countess assured her audience. “She was such a dear in making Trevor comfortable in her homeland, I felt it incumbent upon his family to return the favor.”

Caitlyn knew very well this bit of dialogue was designed for her. She tried not to let it hurt or irritate her. But it did both. She glanced at Aunt Gertrude, who rolled her eyes in disgust.

It was Melanie who responded. “Oh, I imagine Colonel de Lessup is managing to make her welcome enough without our help. After all, it was Trevor who persuaded the rather shy Anthony de Lessup that Dolores was truly interested in him.”

This brought an immediate buzz of response in the room. Melanie leaned over to say quietly to Caitlyn, “That is absolutely true, in case you wondered. Theo told me.”

Caitlyn was pleased by this information—and grateful to Melanie for diverting the spite intended by Miranda and Lydia.

“Trust our Melanie,” Aunt Gertrude murmured approvingly as the general conversation turned to other topics.

Caitlyn, Melanie, and Aunt Gertrude continued to spend a good deal of time with the children. They took Ashley and Elizabeth on walks in the elaborate gardens. They played hide-and-seek and other childhood games with the girls. Occasionally their fathers joined in the fun.

Although neither the countess nor Miranda was especially fond of children, both seemed to try to be tolerant. They tended to be effusive in singing the praises of “darling Elizabeth,” hugging Melanie's child and readily holding her hand on walks. It infuriated Caitlyn, Aunt Gertrude—and Melanie—to see grown women thus exclude an innocent child. Caitlyn tried to compensate by showering more affection on Ashley, but she knew Ashley sensed her grandmother's antipathy.

After two days of this subtle exclusion, Aunt Gertrude had had enough. “I am going to speak to Lydia. This is ridiculous—and hurtful.”

“Do you really think you should?” Caitlyn questioned.

“
Someone
should! And the men rarely have opportunity to see such despicable behavior.”

Sometime later, Caitlyn saw Aunt Gertrude in another section of the garden in earnest conversation with the countess. Lydia sported two bright spots of color and raised her voice, though Caitlyn could not distinguish her words. Soon, the countess cast a malevolent look in Caitlyn's direction and stalked back to the house with an angry flounce.

“Oh, dear,” Caitlyn murmured to herself.

A furious Aunt Gertrude immediately sought Caitlyn to say, “That woman drives me mad. It is hard to believe she was related to the man I loved.”

“What happened?”

“You cannot want to hear her exact words.”

“The gist of them, then.”

“She says her husband and Marcus may be willing to accept a cuckoo in the nest, but she and Miranda and Gerald never will.”

Saddened but not surprised by this comment, Caitlyn felt tears stinging her eyes. “She simply refuses to believe. And frankly, I am not at all sure the earl and Marcus truly believe Ashley is Trevor's child. I think they
accept
her because they know Trevor wants them to do so.”

Aunt Gertrude patted her hand. “At least Trevor believes it—and that is what is truly important.”

“Yes. Trevor believes it. But I think it hurts him—as it hurts me—for our daughter to suffer any degree of rejection. And what happens when Ashley is grown? Will her own grandmother continue to view her as an interloper? The
ton
is likely to take its cue from a socially prominent countess. Will Lydia and Miranda spoil my daughter's chances in life?”

“You must not fret about it, dear. In truth, the
ton
will not care. Many an elevated matron in society has borne children who were not fathered by her husband.”

“
Not
in my family. Nor yours. And, apparently, not in Trevor's. I hate that such a label is so unfairly attached to Ashley—and to me. I hate it!” She clutched her fists helplessly in her lap.

Aunt Gertrude put her arm around Caitlyn and held her close. The older woman's voice had tears in it as she said, “I know, dear, I know. Perhaps in time . . .”

“Perhaps.” But Caitlyn did not believe time would influence the cold heart of the countess.

She did not want to burden Trevor with her worries, but these days it was not easy to keep anything from him. He had become extraordinarily sensitive to even the slightest changes in her mood. That night, he lay in bed watching as she brushed her hair thoroughly and began to pin it up.

“No. Leave it loose,” he said. “I like to see it down.” He gazed at her, the beginnings of desire clear in his eyes. She looked away. Immediately, he rose on one elbow. “What is the matter, Caitlyn? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Come here.” He scooted over and threw back the covers to welcome her. When she was firmly ensconced in his arms, he put his lips against her temple. “Tell me. Let us have no secrets between us.”

“Oh, Trevor, I did not want to burden you.”

His response was a tender growl. “Out with it, wife.”

And so she told him—everything, including her thoughts about the attitudes of the earl and Marcus. He was quiet for such a long time that she feared his reaction. She twisted slightly to look at him, the light from a bedside lamp revealing his grim expression. He tightened his embrace, and there was a certain sadness in his voice.

“My mother is one of the most arrogant, unfeeling females who ever existed. And Miranda is of the same ilk. What's more, she—the countess—was likely guilty at one time of what she suspects of you—and of me.”

“Oh, Trevor—no!”

“I do not know that for a certainty—and I do not want to know—but I am sure my father knows—or suspects it.”

“How sad for him.”

Pulling back, Trevor stared at her. “Caitlyn, you are a wonder! Instead of anger at her, your first reaction is sympathy for him.”

She did not know what to say.

He drew her closer again. “You are right about how Father and Marcus feel. They have said nothing to me, but I believe they are both willing to take their cue from me. And neither of them would knowingly hurt a child. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“And Gerald?”

“The heir apparent is as arrogant and pigheaded as our mother. And as shallow. Sometimes I truly believe he has room to let upstairs, for he must be hit over the head before an idea sinks in.”

“I suppose there are a good many people like that in the world.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Perhaps they
will
all come around eventually,” she said, but even she knew she did not sound very convincing.

When he did not respond for a long period, she wondered if he had fallen asleep.

“Caitlyn?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you rather we left? We can return to Atherton tomorrow, if you wish. I will not have you hurt.”

She felt a delicious warmth at these words. Actually, he offered precisely what she
wanted
to do—go home to Atherton with her own little family.

“No. I—we—cannot do that, Trev. Your father would be very hurt. He wants this time with his children around him. And . . . and I am sure he deserves this much. I can endure. And Ashley is too young to comprehend.”