Fenella J Miller (17 page)

‘Mrs Remington, have you seen the
count anywhere? He arrived some time ago and spoke to me before leaving to tie
up his mount.’

‘No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.’ The
older lady smiled. ‘I expect Charlotte will know where he is. I believe she has
developed an infatuation for him.’ She turned to speak to her daughter who was
sitting on her right. ‘Lottie, did you by any chance see where the count
vanished to?’

Her daughter blushed and looked
uncomfortable. ‘Mama, I don’t know if I should mention it, but I saw him take
his horse behind the hedge.’

Mrs Remington looked puzzled.
‘Why should you not mention that, my dear? Is there something you’re not
telling us?’

The girl nodded. ‘I shall whisper
it to you.’

Penny watched the girl’s head
disappear inside the brim of her mother’s bonnet. Although Charlotte whispered
Penny heard quite clearly what she said.

‘He did not go alone, Mama, one
of the girls went with him.’

Mrs
Remington’s shocked exclamation caused several interested heads to turn their
way.
‘How scandalous!
And I thought him a well-behaved
young man.’

The conversation was rudely
interrupted by the arrival of three wet and disgruntled gentlemen accompanied
by two others, who were dry and in the best of spirits. Ned dropped on to one
of the slatted chairs the ladies had left ready for them.

He held out his boot to Perkins
who tugged it off. The boot was full of water. The second Hessian was removed
and this too was solemnly emptied. A gurgle of laughter welled up inside her.
She tried to stifle it by clasping her napkin over her mouth, but the
ridiculous sight of her top-of-the-trees betrothed reduced to such a state
overcame her. Ned obviously heard as he instantly swivelled. Her desire to
laugh tickled away like sand through her fingers as she met his fulminating
glare.

Chapter Eighteen

Aunt Lucy had no such qualms. Her
bark off merriment was clearly audible to the three wet gentlemen. Penny
couldn’t stop herself from joining in. Soon the entire table was hic-cupping
and spluttering. Before long the laughed at were laughing too.

Ned made no attempt to replace
his boots or stockings but handed them to Perkins. ‘Get these dried out a bit
before I return.’ He grinned looking years younger. ‘Try hanging them over the
hedge.’ He rose and sauntered up the sandy incline and nimbly hopped on to the
grass platform upon which the giggling group of ladies were seated.

Penny stood up and came to meet
him, ignoring the interested spectators. ‘My lord, I’m sorry you took a tumble
and am relieved that no more than your clothes were damaged.’

‘Apart from my
pride, of course.’
He held out his hands and she placed hers in them
feeling the rasp of sand on his fingers.

‘Why were you in such a hurry?
Were you racing each other?’

He lowered his head in order to
speak directly into her ear. ‘No, my love, we were not. I became anxious about
your safety as I could see neither you nor the Frenchman.’

She blushed. ‘I was behind the
screen ridding my feet of this wretched sand and the count went behind the
bushes with one of your maids.’

‘I am relieved that it wasn’t
you.’ His tone was playful but she detected a clear warning in his eyes.
‘However, the girl shall be dismissed.’

‘But….’ His raised eyebrow and
slight shake of his head made her reconsider her protest. There would be plenty
of time to discuss this when they were in private. Instead she grinned down at
his bare feet, now liberally encrusted with sand. ‘I believe we’re a matching
pair, my lord.’ In her hurry to reach the sanctuary of the picnic tables she
hadn’t waited to replace her hosiery.

‘Good grief! Now we’re an
encampment of vagabonds indeed.’ Chuckling he gestured towards the hedge from
which three pairs of men’s stockings were hanging.

‘Come and join us, my lord. After
all the excitement you must be ravenous.’

The outing was declared a
resounding success by all who attended, even the three fallen riders. The party
reached home in good spirits by mid-afternoon and then returned to their
various apartments to change.

 
Penny promised to join her aunt in her private
parlour later, before changing for dinner, in order to finalize details of the
celebrations that were being held to mark her nuptials. Ned was organizing the
ceremony itself, and the wedding breakfast that would follow, and she was happy
for him to do so.

She could hardly believe in just
over two weeks she would be a countess. Lady Weston – no longer plain Miss
Coombs. However, she must concentrate on helping Ned catch his traitor and put
all frivolous thoughts about parties and balls to one side until the matter was
concluded successfully.

Having removed the hateful sand
from her person, she allowed Mary to dress her in her favourite half-dress of
pale blue and light sarcenet, shot with white. Both the back and front of the
bodice were of a particularly delicate white lace that had come all the way
from Brussels and she looked her best in it.

‘Put out the rose pink silk gown
for tonight, Mary. It’s the only one I haven’t yet worn.’

Still having three quarters on
hour before she was to present herself at her aunt’s chambers, Penny decided to
seek out Ned. There was the matter of the misbehaving maid to be discussed
before he had her sent away without a reference.

How unfair this would be; the
poor girl might well have been given no choice in the matter and yet she who
would carry the blame. The detestable count would continue to behave
disgracefully and no one would think the worse of him. Which room should she
investigate first? Ned could be in his study, library or perhaps playing
billiards with the other gentlemen. Voices were approaching from the direction
of the billiard room.

‘Mr Weston, how
delightful to see you.
Have you just left Lord Weston, by any chance?’

He bowed. ‘No, Miss Coombs. I
believe he’s dealing with his correspondence in his study.’

‘Thank you. I shall seek him out
there.’ She smiled at the lanky Remington boy who was with him. ‘I shall see
you both in the drawing-room before dinner.’

Outside the study she hesitated.
If Ned was busy would it be wise to interrupt him? Yes - she believed he would
be pleased to see her. She was always thrilled when he appeared, and hoped that
he felt the same. She knocked and receiving no immediate reply, rapped more
sharply. This time he responded.

‘Come in, if you must.’

This was the one occasion when
she would have liked to have been accompanied by a footman.

She turned the handle and stepped
inside. He was sitting at his desk, papers spread all over the surface. His
brow was furrowed and he didn’t look up.

‘Ned? Should I go away? I shan’t
mind if you are too busy to speak to me at the moment.’

Instantly he was on his feet, his
face transformed with pleasure. ‘Darling girl, I’m always pleased to see you. I
must apologize for my rudeness. I didn’t know it was you disturbing me.’ He led
her to an armchair positioned close to the desk. ‘Sit here, you can be my
muse.’

‘Have you had
bad news from London? Mr Weston said you were dealing with correspondence.’

‘Not bad news,
exactly.
But you’re right, it is from London. Major Carstairs is unable
to join us. He’s been sent to France. I shall have to sort this out without his
expertise.’

‘I’m here to help you. I intend
to continue my ploy with the count tonight.’ Her mouth pursed in disgust. ‘I
can assure you I’m not relishing my role after his disreputable behaviour this
afternoon.’ She thought she had introduced the tricky subject of the maid
servant rather cleverly.

‘I’ve had a word with him. He
will not step out of line with any of my staff again.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.
And the girl?
What of her?’

‘I left the matter with Brown.
It’s up to her if the girl is dismissed. I have no further interest in it, and
neither should you.’ He was perching on the edge of his desk, his legs crossed
casually, and his next words took her by surprise. ‘I absolutely forbid you to
spend any time with the count. I’m certain he’s the traitor. Your involvement
is at an end.’

She lowered her eyes demurely,
the picture of innocent obedience. He wasn’t fooled for one moment. She found
herself hemmed in by his arms resting on either side of her chair.

‘I mean it, Penny. That man’s
dangerous; surely you saw him for what he is this afternoon? I want your word
on this.’

She ventured a glance upwards and
met his steady gaze. The protest she had been about to make remained unspoken.
An all too familiar heat flooded through her. She saw his expression soften and
he dropped to his knees in front of her. Stretching out she traced the outlines
of his face with her finger-tips loving the way he trembled under her touch.

Her eyes were huge; her lips
parted expectantly waiting for his kiss. His hands came up to cover hers,
pulling her gently from the chair.

‘This is madness, my love. I
vowed to keep my distance until we’re married, but when you look at me like
that I can’t resist you.’

She sighed and
settled into his arms, breathing in his musky male scent. His arms tightened
pressing her breasts hard against his chest. Her head was spinning, her reserve
rapidly vanishing as desire spiralled out of control.

She buried her fingers in the
hair that curled just above the high collar of his waistcoat. Tilting her head
back she waited for his lips to cover hers.

‘No, darling, we must not. Once I
start kissing you I’ll not be able to stop.’

His hands gripped her arms and
she was lifted to her feet and placed firmly away from him. For some reason he
turned his back on her and marched over to stare out of the window.

‘Go away, sweetheart. I’ll see
you at dinner. I have
work
to complete.’

She stared at his back, not sure
if she was vexed or puzzled by his ill manners. She sniffed loudly. ‘Very well,
Lord Weston, I shall go. Please do not bother to bid me farewell.’

His rich laugh filled the room.
‘Out – immediately, before I change my mind and it will be a different kind of
work that we complete together.’

Scampering from his hateful
laughter she arrived pell-mell in the Great Hall severely startling the butler
and two footmen. Skidding to a halt she attempted to look dignified, but was
sure her hair had begun to come down and her cheeks were flushed. Ignoring the
three of them she sailed past and ran lightly up the stairs.

As soon as she was out of sight
she paused to straighten her skirts and re-pin the errant strands of hair that
had escaped during her time in the study. Satisfied she was tidy enough to
visit her aunt she headed up the second flight of stairs to arrive exactly on
time at Aunt Lucy’s sitting room.

‘I shall be late, Mary. There’s nothing
we can do about it’ Penny stared dubiously at the unnecessary expanse of creamy
white flesh exposed by her evening gown. ‘I don’t remember this gown having
such a low neckline. I shall feel half naked going down in this.’

‘The garnet
necklace fills a deal of the space, miss. And the matching string of stones
I’ve threaded through your hair look a treat. That red sets off your hair and
makes your eyes sparkle. I’m sure everyone will notice. ‘

Penny rather thought it was her
bosom that was going to be noticed, especially by the gentlemen. She enveloped
herself in the matching wrap; at least she could remain hidden until they went
into dinner. If she refused a drink, she would not have to allow her shawl to
slip down to her elbows.

She met the
Remingtons
in the passageway and their unaffected good humour made her forget about her
low-cut evening gown. The two girls were dressed identically in diaphanous
white sprigged muslin. Dainty white evening slippers peeped out from below
their flowing skirts.

Charlotte spoke for her quieter
sister. ‘Miss Coombs, that’s a beautiful gown. Mama will not allow Elizabeth
and me to wear any colour. She says colours are unsuitable for girls of our
age.’

‘Thank you, Miss Remington; I
also spent a season dressed entirely in white and pastels. However, now I am
older, I may please myself.’

Penny smiled inwardly as she led
the procession down to the drawing-room. She was sure the Remington girls were
only a year or two younger than her. Obviously her status as a future countess
gave her added maturity in their eyes. She dreaded to think what the reaction
would be when she removed her wrap.

When dinner was announced Ned
took her arm and they walked into the dining-room. This was the first time that
evening they had had the opportunity to speak privately.

‘You look
enchanting tonight, my dear. The colour is perfect on you. If I had known you
were wearing that gown I would have given you something more suitable to wear
around your neck.’

‘These garnets
belonged to my mother, Lord Weston. I am quite content to wear them and require
nothing else.’ Her voice reflected her hurt at his disparaging remark. He had
no time to beg her pardon before they were ushered, as always, to either end of
the long table.

She sat down first still smarting
from his thoughtless comment; she dropped her shawl revealing for the first
time just how low her dress was cut. She raised her head and stared down the
table defiantly. She was a woman grown and the other ladies had gowns as
revealing as hers.

Ned regretted
his casual criticism as soon as he had spoken but was given no opportunity to
put matters right before he took his place at the head of the table. He had not
meant to cause distress – the garnets were lovely but the family rubies were
even better. He would put matters right after dinner. In fact he would fetch
the rubies from the safe in his rooms and give them to her before she retired
for the night.

He glanced
down the table and his jaw dropped with incredulity. Sitting facing him was the
most beautiful woman he had ever seen. How could the young girl he had first
met have metamorphosed into this amazing creature? It wasn’t just the deep
neckline,
nor
the sophisticated hairstyle – there was
something else. Penny was staring at him with a look of such disdain his toes
curled in his shoes.

He was a lucky
man; looking as she did she could have anyone she wanted. The servant had
already filled his crystal glass with claret and he raised the glass and
toasted her. This was a gesture that acknowledged her beauty and her maturity.
She was a woman well able to run his home and raise his children.

His
relationship with her was changed. From this point forward he would treat her
as an adult – allow her to have an opinion of her own. His mouth curved involuntarily.
What was he thinking? His darling girl was already quite capable of making her
feelings known. He bowed his head,
then
placed the
glass against his lips, holding her captive by the power of his gaze.

She reached
out and slowly brought her glass and pressed the rim to her lips, returning his
salute. He wanted to slam his chair back and carry her to his bedchamber. So
much for his vow to keep his distance!

There was a
presence by his left shoulder and he glanced round. Foster wished to speak to him
about the wine. When he looked back, his eyes narrowed and his face assumed a
look of such ferocity that lady seated on his left visibly recoiled.