BRIGHTON BEAUTY (12 page)

Descending the stairs to meet Rutherford in the foyer, she vowed that in the coming days, she'd spend less time in Lady Rathbone's delightful company and devote a few hours of each day to thinking up new bonnet designs for Mr. Merribone. With the bridge now serviceable again, she could go up to Chester herself and purchase the new drawing materials and paper she needed. She lifted her chin with resolve just as she reached the hall and caught sight of Lord Rathbone standing there awaiting her.

Meeting his gaze, she noted his stern countenance soften at once.

"Alayna," he breathed, "you look . . . lovely. Positively lovely."

Chelsea smiled sweetly. "Why, thank you. You look . . ." Her sweeping gaze took in his smart blue superfine coat, thigh-hugging buckskin breeches and polished black Hessians. "Quite handsome yourself."

"Thank you, dear. I daresay, we make a grand looking couple."

Chelsea thrilled to his words as she curled a gloved hand around the arm he offered and they stepped onto the sun-dappled drive in front of the castle.

Following services, Chelsea was aware of the tremulous flutter she felt in her middle every time Lord Rathbone smilingly introduced her to the ladies and gentlemen he was acquainted with, as his future bride. She could not deny that a part of her, a
large
part of her, wished that what he was saying were true.

But of course she was being silly. Once Alayna returned and the perfidy uncovered, she would never see Lord Rathbone again, nor Alayna, for that matter. And
that,
she told herself, was the real reason she was suffering through this torment. To once and for all be rid of Alayna Marchmont's interference in her life. She drew in a long breath. It would indeed feel good to no longer live under the constant threat of exposure, to simply live her life, to earn her keep, to  . . . she glanced at Lord Rathbone as they headed for the handsome Marchmont coach . . . to  . . . she had nearly said, to never see Lord Rathbone again, but those words caught in her throat.

With effort, she pushed down the roiling bubble of emotion that suddenly swelled her breast and that made her want to . . . to . . . she was unable to complete that thought, as well.

Upon returning to the castle, they, along with Lady Rathbone, partook of a light luncheon, then Chelsea felt strangely disappointed when, as usual, Lord Rathbone disappeared into the library for the remainder of the day.

* * * *

T
he following morning the sky again dawned blue and sunny. Chelsea actually awoke to the sound of birds chirping and trilling as they perched on the wide stone sill outside the narrow slit of window in her bedchamber. Her bare feet hit the floor with determination. Today, she would make the short journey into Chester to purchase the necessary drawing materials so she could make good on her word to Mr. Merribone.

"I think you should go into Chester today, Alayna," Lady Rathbone announced almost at once after they had all sat down to breakfast.

"Excuse me?" Feeling a sudden flush of alarm color her cheeks, Chelsea stared at the woman wide-eyed.
How did she know . . .

"I shall be driving into the village today," Lord Rathbone said absently, "you may come with me, Alayna."

"Splendid!" his mother chimed in. "You may accompany Alayna to the engraver's with the notice about our fair."

For the drive into town, Chelsea, Lord Rathbone and Dulcie climbed into a rather shabby-looking carriage that had recently been repaired. As the poorly-matched team struggled to prance smartly in front of them, Lord Rathbone kept up a running discourse regarding the things he still intended to accomplish at the castle before he departed England.

"I intend to call on a land agent in Chester this morning," he said. "I am counting on him to recommend a competent bailiff to me, whom I shall hire straightaway and then see the man settled in before we leave. With the bridge now coach-worthy, and the outbuildings nearly all repaired, that leaves only cutting away the brush that's overtaken the bailey and lower castle walls. And then, of course, there is the matter of clipping the lawn and putting up the necessary stalls for the fair. I take it Mother sent along a list of supplies she needs for the ball?"

"Yes," Chelsea replied. "And, I . . . I have a few errands I should like to tend to myself in town."

"Since you are familiar with Chester, I had thought to let you off at the Rows while I look after my business. By separating to take care of our respective errands, we shall make better use of our time. I should like to be back at the castle before luncheon, which will give me a long afternoon to complete my work. Is that agreeable with you?" He flicked a glance at Chelsea.

She feared all color had drained from her face.
Alone? He was leaving her alone with Dulcie to find her own way about Chester?
Her heart hammered frantically as she fought to reply. "I . . . o-of course, that is quite agreeable with me," she said weakly. "But," she hurried on, "what about the packages? I rather expect I shall have a good deal to carry, more than poor Dulcie could manage."

Lord Rathbone turned to stare at her. "Have you gone completely daft, Alayna? Simply give over your list to the proper merchant, and I shall send a servant back this afternoon to collect the parcels. You don't think I intend hauling a load of fresh lumber atop the coach, do you?"

A nervous giggle escaped Chelsea. "No. H-how silly of me. But, I-I should like to bring my drawing materials back with me," she added in a rush.

"Drawing materials?" He slapped the reins over the backs of the mismatched pair in an effort to urge the cumbersome beasts along at a swifter pace. "Since when are you of an artistic bent?"

Chelsea could not think what had prompted her to blurt out that piece of incriminating evidence. She knew very well that Alayna was not an artist, as, apparently, her cousin did. "Uh . . . they are for Dulcie, my abigail. Today is her birthday and I should like to get her something special. Therefore you can surely understand my . . . my dire need of drawing materials."

When Dulcie opened her mouth, Chelsea kicked the poor girl's ankle.

"Ah, I see. Come to think on it, I had meant to purchase a gift for my housekeeper. Mrs. O'Riley is a lovely woman, you will like her," he continued. "Despite the fact that she is Irish, she is every bit as competent as any Englishwoman trained in the household arts that I have dealt with. While I'm here, I expect it would also be a good idea to purchase small gifts for others of the household staff," he added, thinking aloud. "I regret Boxing Day came and went last year and I had nothing for them."

"You generally give your servants gifts." It was more a statement than a question. "What about the slaves? Do you also give them something?"

Glancing down at her, Rathbone half-laughed. "I daresay you have developed a soft heart, my girl. I admit I never expected such an admirable quality to develop in you."

On Alayna's behalf, Chelsea begged to differ. Alayna may have her faults, but she could be quite generous, at times. "I merely think it fair that if you give your servants gifts, you should treat the slaves equally as well."

Still grinning, he said, "For the most part, the slaves are my servants. You will see how it is once you are there, Alayna." He returned his attention to his driving. "And furthermore you may rest assured, that all of my slaves are treated fairly."

Once they'd arrived inside the walled city of Chester, Chelsea made every effort to stay alert to the sights about her. Making note of the imposing lacy-spired cathedral, and numerous half-timbered buildings, she hoped that in the event she had to walk a great distance in order to find her way back to the coach, she could avoid becoming hopelessly lost. As it turned out, when Lord Rathbone turned into the square that marked the entrance to the Rows, she soon saw that she had nothing to fear.

All the shops that she could possibly want to visit were clustered together, nay, stacked one atop another, in a riot of gay profusion.

"I shall leave the coach here," Lord Rathbone said, handing the reins to the livered footman who had ridden the short distance from the castle in the small dickey in the rear. "Will an hour be sufficient for you to complete your errands?" he asked Chelsea.

Wearing a very relieved smile on her lips, Chelsea quickly nodded assent. "Indeed. An hour will do quite nicely."

"Very well, then."

Chelsea stood for a long moment watching Lord Rathbone's tall figure disappear into the busy crowd milling purposefully about the colorful marketplace. When he was gone, she involuntarily inhaled a sigh of relief. For a very brief moment, she toyed with the idea of losing herself as well in the crowd. Permanently.

She just as quickly dismissed the notion. Dulcie was with her and to leave Lady Rathbone hanging in the lurch, and Lord Rathbone to worry over her sudden disappearance would never do.

In less than an hour, she had delivered her shopping lists to the appropriate merchants and selected and purchased the drawing materials she needed, and was on her way back to the coach. Through the surge on the flagway surrounding the cluster of horses and equipages left awaiting their occupants, she caught a quick glimpse of Lord Rathbone striding toward the curb. At the sight of his now all too familiar face, her heart lifted. She bit her lip to quell the rising tide of emotion that of its own accord swelled within her. He was indeed a wonderful man. Surely Alayna would fall in love with him once she saw him again.

On the way back to the castle, Lord Rathbone was again as talkative as he had been earlier.

"I met with a Mr. Wells," he told Chelsea. "He was able to recommend a highly accomplished bailiff to me." Rathbone sounded quite pleased. "I shall meet with the man straightaway. This is certain to solve Mother's management problem. Though I rather expect the gentleman will serve more as a steward than a mere bailiff," he went on, thinking aloud. "Mr. Wells seemed to think the candidate sufficiently qualified. I do hope things proceeded as smoothly for you in town as they did for me, Alayna."

Chelsea nodded. "I took the announcement for our fair to the engraver. He said he would have the placards printed up by day after tomorrow. You will send someone to collect them, won't you? And I should also like to have them posted."

"I shall be happy to take care of that for you, Alayna." Lord Rathbone smiled magnanimously. "I am certain the fair will prove a great success. You and Mother have worked quite industriously." He turned to press a smile upon Chelsea. "I will admit," he added in a laughing tone, "I am quite looking forward to the festivities. And to the ball as well. It's been an age since I attended such an affair."

Chelsea cast a gaze upward, her eyes drinking in the handsome lines of his aristocratic profile. "There are no fancy dress affairs in Honduras?" she asked.

He turned another smile on her. "Not of the type you are accustomed to. Oh, we have our little assemblies and such. There are a number of English couples living in Honduras. In fact, there are five in our village alone. Lord and Lady Bridleshelm only recently arrived from Africa. Bridleshelm acquired the sugar plantation at the foot of the hill, down from me. And there are a number of other planters whose wives accompanied them. I recall writing to you about that young Mr. Spencer, who originally hailed from Birmingham, I believe. He recently married the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Fisk. It was our first wedding in the village. English wedding, that is. There are plenty of couples who jump the broom."

"Jump the broom?" Chelsea could not quell a laugh.

Rathbone joined in. "It's a marriage ritual of the Negroes. To seal their wedding vows, the young couple jumps backward over a broom handle. I've no idea why or how the custom originated," he added, with a laugh.

Chelsea relaxed. She had grown to love hearing him talk of his home. It all sounded so foreign, so thrilling, like making a fresh new start with one's life. Gazing up at him with wonder, she held her breath, hoping he would continue, though not daring to encourage him lest he think she was interested.

Apparently he felt her gaze on him for he turned then, and for a long moment, held the gaze. Chelsea did not know what to read into the look, but after a small smile had wavered across her lips, he started up again.

"We Englishmen are quite a gay lot when we gather together. The gentlemen puff on cigars and talk and talk. Occasionally we get up a game of cards, though I am not often amongst the players. The ladies prefer to gather 'round my new piano wanting to sing. And of course we dance. The ladies are constantly after us to dance with them." He laughed easily. "I can't think where they get the energy to do so, but I do believe if we'd oblige, the dancing would go on all night." Pausing, he looked at Chelsea again. "You would like that, would you not, Alayna?"

Chelsea turned her face away.
She
would adore it. "I-it all sounds very gay, Ford, but . . . you are forgetting," she said quietly, "I shan't be there."

Upon uttering those words, a sense of doom seemed to press down upon her. She hated to squelch his pleasure, but it would not do to let him think she had changed her mind. She knew it would take more than the promise of music and a bit of dancing to lure Alayna Marchmont away from England.

Once the small coach had rattled across the sturdy new bridge and wheeled past the bailey, Chelsea caught sight of a dusty horse tethered near the mammoth wooden doors that marked the entrance to the castle. At once the feeling of foreboding within her intensified.

"Appears we have a visitor," Lord Rathbone said, his well-modulated tone having grown distant and cool again. "I expect it is the magistrate, Mr. Wainwright. I called at his office just now, only to find that he had journeyed to the castle to see me. Or rather, us."

Chelsea's heart leapt fearfully to her throat as Lord Rathbone halted the team. He tossed the reins aside and hopped to the ground.

"Alayna," he said crisply, reaching to assist Chelsea down, "you will join us in the withdrawing room. Wainwright will want to have a word with you."