Authors: Jane Feather
Nathaniel stared for an instant of disbelieving astonishment as Gabrielle walked her horse across the yard toward the gate to the paddock.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lord, but ’er ladyship might ’ave a point,” Milner said. “At me wits end, I’ve been, sir, tryin’ to get Master Jake used to the pony, but fair petrified ’e is. Mebbe this’ll do the trick.”
Nathaniel made no answer, but trotted his horse after Thunderer.
Jake lost his terrified rigidity as he felt the steady, warm pressure of Gabrieile’s body against his back. When she told him to take the reins, he did so. Her hands covered his, guiding his movements as he directed the big horse in a circle around the paddock.
“Are you ready to trot?” Gabrielle asked.
Jake swallowed and nodded bravely. Obeying instruction, he nudged the gigantic gelding with his heels and the horse with a reinforcing signal from Gabrielle broke into a steady trot.
Grimly, Nathaniel kept pace with them. He was too angry and discomfited by Gabrieile’s assumption of
control to say anything, but he watched his son throughout this unorthodox lesson, noticing that Jake knew perfectly well how to ride, and once he relaxed, his posture improved. It was inconceivable to Nathaniel that his son should be frightened of horses. He himself had attended his first hunt at the age of eight and had basked in his father’s rare approval when it came to horsemanship. Gabrielle had the same natural skills and fearlessness. Unlike Nathaniel, however, she didn’t seem to think there was anything out of the ordinary about Jake’s fear.
It was galling and yet, reluctantly, Nathaniel had to admit that her method showed some measure of success. Jake wasn’t enjoying himself, but he’d stopped crying and was able to concentrate again on the fundamental techniques of horsemanship.
“Now, how about riding your own pony?” Gabrielle suggested when they’d cantered once around the paddock, Jake hanging on for dear life, white-faced but determinedly silent. “You’ll find it’s nowhere near as high up as Thunderer. Won’t he, Nathaniel?”
“I should imagine so,” Nathaniel said in frigid tones, turning his horse back to the stableyard.
Jake looked anxiously up over his shoulder at Gabrielle, who returned a reassuring smile, although she was beginning to realize how high-handed and presumptuous her behavior must seem to Nathaniel.
Back in the stableyard, she swung Jake down to the waiting groom and then dismounted herself. “Would you like me to lead your pony, Jake?”
“That’s Milner’s job,” Nathaniel stated curtly. He lifted Jake onto the back of Black Rob. “Take the reins and put your feet in the stirrups.” The instructions were brisk, but his hands were gentle enough as they straightened the child’s back and slipped his small feet into the stirrups.
“How does that feel?”
Jake just nodded stiffly, his mouth set tight. “Take
him to the paddock, Milner.” Nathaniel stepped back and the groom took hold of the pony’s bridle. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and the animal walked on, his small rider rigid in the saddle, but so far dry-eyed and silent.
Nathaniel and Gabrielle watched for a minute, then Nathaniel said, “Come into the house.”
He walked ahead of her with a long, impatient stride, and she followed, bracing herself for his anger.
Nathaniel didn’t waste any time. He closed the library door with a sharp click and demanded, “Just what gave you the right to interfere, Gabrielle?”
“Well, nothing, really,” she said, drawing off her gloves. “And I’m sorry if you thought that was what I was doing. But it seemed to me that you weren’t going about it right.”
Tactless!
But it was said now.
“How I choose to handle
my
son is
my
business,” Nathaniel declared, a white shade around his mouth, his lips thinned. “He’s timid and overprotected and he has to learn how to overcome his fear and I will not, I repeat not, tolerate the interference of a managing busybody who has no right whatsoever to presume any authority in my household.”
It was worse than she’d expected. She’d been perfectly prepared to apologize, but this humiliating castigation was too much to endure in meek silence.
“Your son may well be your business, Lord Praed, but if you think bullying him will overcome his fear, then you’ve even less understanding of children than it appears … and that’s saying something,” she stated with lamentable lack of finesse.
“You know nothing about it, madame,” he said furiously. “You push your way into my life without so much as a by-your-leave and then assume you have the right to dictate—”
“That is not so!” Gabrielle interrupted, outraged. “I didn’t push my way into your life—”
“Into my bed, you did,” he interrupted in turn.
“Well, that wasn’t without so much as a by-your-leave!” They were getting rather off the point, but Gabrielle found herself simply following his lead, perfectly prepared to give as good as she got.
“I will not tolerate your interference with my son.”
“So what were you going to do, beat the fear out of him?” she threw at him with ringing scorn. “That’s what
your
father would have done, I imagine. Ensured that you were more frightened of him than the horse!”
A pulse throbbed in Nathaniel’s temples and a dark flush spread over his high cheekbones. Yet he made no immediate comeback to Gabrielle’s searing challenge and she waited uneasily through a long, tense silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat, no trace of the previous emotion.
“Yes, he would have, but I’m not about to follow his example.” He turned away from her and bent to throw another log on the fire. There was a heaviness in the room, the residue of the bright, sparking fury that had flown between them.
“I could never hurt Jake,” Nathaniel said, leaning one elbow along the mantelpiece, staring down at the fire. “It would be like striking Helen.”
Gabrielle could think of nothing to say. The statement was too confiding, too intimate.
Nathaniel raised his head from his forearm and looked across at her. His expression was bleak, suddenly open and vulnerable, and then it closed again like the oyster over its pearl. He pushed himself upright. “I must ask you to excuse me. I have work to do.”
It was a curt dismissal. Without a word she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Nathaniel stood glowering for a minute, tapping his fingernails on the mantelpiece. Then he strode to the bookshelves and removed the volumes of Locke’s
Treatise on Government
, revealing the safe. He spun the tumblers and opened the door. Taking out the papers, he slipped them into the breast of his coat and replaced
them in the safe with a sheaf of documents from the
secrétaire
relating to estate business. Perfectly innocent material for any prying eyes. He plucked a silver hair from his temple and carefully inserted it between the door of the safe and the rim before closing the door. Satisfied that the hair was invisible from the outside, he replaced the books and left the library.
Gabrielle, still disturbed by that angry exchange, went up to her apartments to change out of her riding habit. She passed the housekeeper coming down the stairs with an armful of linens.
Gabrielle paused. “What time does his lordship dine, Mrs. Bailey?”
“At six o’clock, ma’am. His lordship keeps country hours here. He sees Master Jake in the library at five-thirty, in general, and then dines afterward.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“I’ll send Ellie up to help with your dressing, my lady. She’s ironed your gowns. They were rather crumpled from the cloakbag.”
“Yes, I’m not surprised,” Gabrielle said without blinking an eye, even as she wondered what Ellie and the housekeeper had made of the britches keeping company with the more respectable items of clothing in the cloakbag. “I’m expecting the rest of my traps to be sent on in the next few days, so I’ll be most grateful if Ellie can do what she can for now with what I have with me.”
“Of course, my lady.” Mrs. Bailey went on her way, as curious as ever about the Comtesse de Beaucaire. A proper lady she was, despite certain odd items of clothing in her meager luggage, but what was a proper lady with a wedding ring doing in this scandalous situation? The gossip would be all over the county in no time. Not that it would trouble his lordship any.
Since her arrival that morning, Gabrielle had had little opportunity to examine the apartments allotted her. There was a large, sunny bedchamber with heavy
winter velvet hangings to the bed and windows, a Turkish carpet on the highly polished floorboards, a fire burning in the grate beneath an elegant carved mantelpiece. Adjoining it was a small boudoir, carpeted and curtained in rose velvet like the bedchamber, furnished with a chaise longue, several armchairs, and a delicate Queen Anne
secrétaire
. Here, too, a fire burned in the grate.
A door in the far wall connected the boudoir with his lordship’s apartments. Had these been Helen’s rooms? On one hand, it seemed obvious that they had been, but on the other, Gabrielle couldn’t believe that Nathaniel would have installed his mistress-of-the-moment in the apartment of his late, beloved wife. He was a forbidding and frequently ill-tempered man, but he had a sensitivity that perhaps truly revealed itself only during his lovemaking. She knew he would not have insulted his wife’s memory.
She suppressed any further curiosity about the late Lady Praed. It had no bearing on her reason for being there … as did any further interference in Lord Praed’s relationship with his son.
She would remain in her apartments until six o’clock, leaving Nathaniel to conduct his daily interview with Jake in private.
Thus resolved, Gabrielle greeted Elite’s arrival and the offer of hot water for a bath with heartfelt enthusiasm. She had no idea how Nathaniel would behave after the afternoon’s unpleasantness, but she would leave him to set the tone.
At half past five she was sitting in the bay window of the boudoir, watching the dusk roll in from the river, listening to the loud cawing of a flock of rooks settling for the night in a stand of conifers at the end of the garden. Nathaniel’s family estate was beautiful, flanked on one side by the Beaulieu River meandering through tidal marshes to the Solent, the wide body of water between
the mainland and the Isle of Wight, and on the other by the primeval majesty of the New Forest.
They’d ridden that afternoon in the Forest, crossing the gorse- and heather-strewn common land into the broad rides beneath the centuries-old oaks and beeches. It was not a part of the country Gabrielle knew, but she felt its tug and had seen in Nathaniel’s relaxed, peaceful expression that this distinctive contrast of sea and forest ran in his blood.
A soft tap on the door disturbed her reverie. Unsure whether she’d really heard it, she turned her head toward the door. The tap came again, more of a scratching than a definite signal.
“Come in.”
The door opened slowly. Jake stood there, his hand still on the knob, a serious expression on his face, his round brown eyes solemn. He was very clean and tidy, his starched white shirt with ruffled collar buttoned onto his nankeen trousers and his hair glistening damply from judicious wetting to keep it lying neatly on his forehead.
“Jake?” Gabrielle rose and crossed the room. “This is a surprise.” She smiled down at him. “Come in.”
Jake shook his head. “I have to go to the library.” But he still stood there, holding the door, staring down at his feet in their buttoned boots.
“Your papa will be waiting for you,” Gabrielle agreed, glancing at the clock.
“You coming too?” He raised his eyes from the floor. “To see Papa?”
Nathaniel had forbidden Miss Primmer to bring the child to him, Gabrielle remembered. Was Jake really so shy of his father that he couldn’t face him alone? It was ridiculous. And yet, perhaps not. Children could be intimidated by many things, and Nathaniel, except in certain very specific instances, was not an inviting person.
“If you like.” She made up her mind. She’d accompany
the child, but she’d take no part in the conversation.
Taking the child’s hand, she walked down the stairs with him. “How was Black Rob, Jake? Did you trot with him?”
“No,” Jake said solemnly. “But I rode him without Milner holding the bridle. Tomorrow I’ll trot … but just in the paddock,” he added. “Until I feel braver, Milner says.”
“That’s very sensible,” Gabrielle agreed. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Primmy said you were staying in the Queen’s Suite. It’s called that ’cause a queen stayed there once.”
“Oh, which queen?”
“I don’t know.”
They’d reached the library and Jake paused, raising his hand to knock on the paneled door.
Gabrielle felt the stiffness in the small frame and smiled down at him. She opened the door before he could knock.
“Jake says a queen once slept in my bedroom, Nathaniel. Which one?”
Nathaniel was reading papers at the big desk. He raised his head and looked at her and was struck anew by the unerring flair that determined her clothes. Her gown of soft, clinging crepe was the color of slate and heather with long, tight sleeves buttoned at the wrist. A triple tier of black lace ruffles at her throat formed the high neck appropriate for an afternoon gown. Her hair was piled in a knot on top of her head, with a cluster of ringlets falling over her ears.
The image of her naked body on the seat of the carriage that morning suddenly obtruded on this vision of understated elegance and it took his breath away, banishing all the lingering resentments of the afternoon and the cold detachment with which he’d set his trap. “I like that gown,” he declared abruptly.
“I apologize for the informality,” she said with a
gravity belied by the mocking glimmer of laughter in her eyes. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring any evening wear … not being certain of my destination.”
“We don’t stand on ceremony in the country,” he assured her with matching solemnity, indicating his own unassuming morning dress of buff pantaloons and coat of brown superfine.
“I prefer it that way,” she said, her tongue touching her lips, and they both knew she was not referring to evening dress.