Lady Faith Takes a Leap (7 page)

“You’re welcome. It looks a good deal better on you,” he murmured.

Faith pressed her lips together so as not to respond to his provoking statement. She left him and hurried to answer her mother’s call. As Faith threaded her way through the small group of Brandreths, the dowager gave her a nod and a smile.

A servant opened the front door, and light spilled onto the driveway. The earl strode through. “I deeply apologize for the inconvenience everyone. A lamp was knocked over in one of the reception rooms and started a fire. The curtains caught, but we now have it under control. Regrettably the small salon’s quite badly damaged, but the most important thing is no one has come to harm,” he said as they all trouped inside. “Hot chocolate and brandy will be served in the morning room.”

 An hour later, Faith still lay awake. She raised an arm over her head and stared at the shard of moonlight on the ornamental ceiling. She smiled. Vaughn had come for her. She rolled over and punched her pillow, remembering how her father had ushered her and her mother back to their rooms.

“Why didn’t you dress more appropriately, Faith? Displaying yourself for all to see in Lord Vaughn’s dressing gown. I begin to believe you mean to undermine everything I try to do for you.”

“I didn’t think. I feared I might burn to death, Father.” She frowned at him, perplexed.

“And I thank God that you didn’t. I’m grateful to Vaughn Winborne for rescuing you while I saw to your mother, but don’t get any foolish ideas about him,” he said. “Now go back to bed.”

****

His mother’s bedchamber in the dower house reminded Vaughn of a sunlit bluebell wood, decorated as it was in blue, gold, and green. He crossed the flowery carpet to where she lay propped up on lacy pillows in the carved oak four-poster.

A servant removed the breakfast tray and, with a bob, left the room.

He leaned over to kiss his mother’s scented cheek. “Morning, Mama.”

“Sit down, Vaughn.”

“You look well this morning. That lace cap is becoming.”

She patted the cap absently and studied him. “You were out riding early.”

It was more like a question. Did she expect him to sleep half the day like so many useless members of the
ton
? The suggestion rankled. Vaughn sat where she’d directed him on an unlikely piece of furniture for someone of his size, a spindly French satin-covered gilt chair. He attempted to cross his legs.

“Forgive me for coming smelling of horse, but your summons gave me no time to change.” He raised his eyebrows. “Something troubles you?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

“Why?” He stretched out his legs, uncomfortable on the slippery satin seat.

“You were very attentive to Rosamond at the ball. Lady Montrose is of the opinion that a proposal may be forthcoming.”

He jumped to his feet and walked around the floor. “I danced with Rosamond twice; I hardly think that amounts to a declaration.”

She smiled and patted the bed. “Sit. And stop quibbling. You are aware of society’s expectations as much as I am. Such behavior signals your intention to pursue her.”

Vaughn perched on the edge of the bed. “I like Lady Rosamond well enough, Mama, but that’s all.”

“Then why favor her, when there were so many young ladies there in need of a partner?”

“In the hope that Chaloner will support my new endeavor.”

“What has Rosamond to do with that?”

“To show him I’m ready to settle down.”

“But you’re not.”

He grinned. “Not what?”

She gave an annoyed huff. “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“I barely know Rosamond.”

“But you wish to know her better?”

“Perhaps. What I really wish is to purchase a property in Surrey I’ve found. The land is perfect for my horse stud.”

“Ah.” She leaned across and patted his arm. “My dear, don’t be in such a hurry. Your inheritance—”

“Is not forthcoming, Mama. I wish to employ my newly acquired skills. Put an end to my aimless existence. Chaloner certainly agrees with that last part at least. Father left me an inheritance, not a fortune but enough to set me up. I feel at my age I’m entitled to the whole and not just an allowance.”

“Darling boy.” She shook her head. “Your father’s will is quite clear.”

“Why the delay? I reached my majority years ago.”

She fingered her wrap. “It was after you were sent down from Oxford. Your father altered his will just before he died.”

Vaughn pulled in and then slowly released a deep breath. “So, that was the reason. I thought as much.” It was almost impossible to believe that one small thoughtless act on his part could affect so many lives. The fear that Vaughn’s actions might have brought about his father’s death once more tightened his chest. It was something he’d have to live with. If he could have spoken to his father, explained the situation, everything might have turned out differently.

She patted his hand. “It is hard for you I know. The will clearly states that Chaloner is to give you a generous allowance but retain full control to invest your inheritance as he sees fit until you turn thirty. He is not unreasonable, however. Chaloner is an admirable man who takes his role as head of the family most seriously.”

“Which is as it should be.” Vaughn raked his hands through his hair. “But he also expects everyone else to measure up to his high ideals,” he said. “Edward feels I must prove to Chaloner I’m able to use the money wisely.” He shrugged his shoulders. “How can I do that if I don’t have the use of it?”

“A conundrum certainly,” his mother agreed. “I suggest patience.”

He scowled. “Patience?”

“Yes, my dear. Be patient. It shall come about. But please don’t give young ladies your undivided attention when you have no intention of seeking their hand.” She ruffled his hair. “You’re such a handsome man; you’ve only to beckon with your little finger.”

He laughed. “You sound like a mother.”

“I am your mother, but I’m not blind. And neither are other ladies, young and old.”

If he raised a little finger, to Faith, for instance, would she come running? He very much doubted it. “I would actually like to find a suitable bride. Have a son or two like Freddie. But I’m hamstrung.”

“We might be having this conversation some years hence.” She shrugged her shoulders in her lacy wrap. “But age has little to do with one’s feelings. You need love in your life, I quite see that, but you have been looking in the wrong place. Rational men are not always as good at listening to their hearts as we women are.” She pleated the bed sheet with her fingers. “I wish I could help you with this endeavor of yours, but my money is tied up, and I have little influence with Chaloner.”

“Chaloner is so confident of his decisions; it’s difficult to change his mind on any matter,” he said.

Perhaps his mother was not as forceful as she used to be, but she was still capable of ruffling a few feathers. He was aware that she had to tread carefully with Lavinia, who wasn’t the warmest of daughter-in-laws. Vaughn swallowed the lump of compassion in his throat at the extraordinary thought that his mother might be lonely. His sisters all lived far from home. The whole family only got together during births, funerals, and Christmas. His elder brother, Bart’s, wife, Emily, was a kindly soul, but they lived in York, and although Honor was a favorite of his mother’s, she and Edward seldom came to Brandreth Park.

“I do not want to see you unhappy.” Her fine, expressive eyes turned sad. “Not now you’re finding your feet after troubling times. Cast your net wide, my love,” she said. “And now leave me. I wish to dress. We are to go to the spring at Tunbridge Wells today. I plan to take the waters. Faith is to accompany me.” She tapped her chin with a finger. “As Lady Montrose and her daughter will be joining us, perhaps it’s better if you do not. There’s no sense in exciting the good lady unnecessarily.”

He rose. “Very well, Mama. Enjoy your outing.”

Vaughn kissed his mother and left her in her floral boudoir. He was surprisingly disappointed, for taking the waters held little attraction for him. Walking along the drive, he returned to the house.

His conversation with his mother made him cast his mind back as he strode along. He’d given up on his dreams after being sent down from Oxford. Chaloner’s parliamentary activities were concerned with improving the lives of his tenant farmers. Admirable though that was, Vaughn had wished to become a Member of Parliament who introduced important reform that would affect the whole country. He kicked the gravel with his boot. Pipe dreams were best forgotten, but he still yearned to make his father proud. Despite his father departing this earth years ago, regret was like a tight fist in his chest.

John Strathairn had trusted him enough to take on a position of responsibility. For that, Vaughn would always be grateful, for he now had the skills to forge a decent, rewarding life. He was ready to earn the respect of his family. Chaloner should understand that and trust him too.

The Baxendale curricle drove past him on the carriageway. He caught a glimpse of Faith sitting alone. His thoughts immediately returned to how curvy and sweetly scented her body had been in his arms the night of the fire. Damn, he wanted to drag her off to his bed and kiss every inch of her soft skin. He sighed and sent more gravel rolling away with an impatient kick. A man would be lucky to have her for his wife.

The curricle pulled up in front of the rambling, ivy-covered, old redbrick house. Holding on to her hat, tugged by the cool breeze, Faith descended onto the driveway of Brandreth Park. She was to join the dowager’s party to visit the Royal Tunbridge Wells Spring. Straightening her skirts, Faith prepared to follow the liveried footman to the house. Would Vaughn accompany them today? She firmed her lips. She should not be thinking of him. It would serve her better to focus on her new beau, who was to join them in Tunbridge Wells.

“Hullo, Faith.”

Faith turned, wondering if her traitorous thoughts had conjured him up. Vaughn walked from the direction of the dower house in riding clothes, his Hessians polished to a high shine and a beaver hat set over his black locks. No need for buckram wadding in those shoulders, she thought with a sigh. She recalled their last meeting when her hair had been in a braid and she’d barely a stitch on. She bit her lip and frowned. She was not entirely convinced he’d needed to carry her! She steeled herself and curtseyed.

“My lord.”

“How very formal, Faith.” He removed his hat and bowed from the neck. A ray of sunlight alighted on his thick, straight hair, and her fingers curled as if buried deep in the silken strands. The rush of need to step closer and touch him rocked her. Mr. Sefton, she reminded herself fiercely, had perfectly presentable dark brown hair.

“Vaughn,” she corrected coolly, gaining control of herself. But it still gave her far too much pleasure to say his name. “Thank you again for coming to my aid the night of the fire,” she managed to say without blushing. “Have you been to see your mother?”

“No need to thank me.” His gaze roamed lazily over her. “Mother tells me you are to go with her to visit the spring.”

“Shall you join us?”

“Not today. I must investigate another property for my horse stud.”

Should she be glad? She would prefer not to spend the day comparing him with Mr. Sefton. Not that Mr. Sefton wouldn’t measure up, she amended hastily. He was an entirely more sober member of society.

They walked together to the house, passing through the massive wooden front door held open by the butler, Belton. A footman took Faith’s pelisse.

“Mother is dressing,” Vaughn said. “Allow me to escort you to the salon. Would you care for coffee or tea?”

“I would like some tea, thank you,” Faith said, still feeling awkward in his company.

Faith sat on the brocade sofa while Vaughn left the room to summon a footman. It was a pleasant room with walls papered in moss green, the windows framed in rose silk damask. A painting of the dowager as a lovely young woman hung above the carved marble fireplace. She and her sister, Fenella, were famous beauties and the toast of London when they were young. A door onto the terrace stood open, giving a glimpse of smooth emerald lawns and a rose garden.

Young Lord Frederick, heir to the marquisate, ran into the room holding a ball. “Who’s going to play with me?” He gazed around as if the room was full of possible playmates.

Faith rose and peeled off her gloves. “As there’s only me, I will if you wish it.” She eyed the exquisite pair of Egyptian vases on the mantel. “But out on the lawn.” She looked toward the door. “Where is your nurse?”

“Nanny Greengage is in the nursery with my sister. Come on, then.” He took her sleeve and pulled.

“Goodness, you are keen. Very well.” She stepped through the French windows onto the terrace as Freddie raced down the steps onto the lawn. “That’s far enough.” She gazed around for someone to sanction their game, but there was no one.

She turned back as Freddie threw the ball to her. Not ready, Faith made a grab and missed. The ball went tumbling into the rose garden.

“I’d best find a servant.” Faith did not want to risk her new violet-blue gown on the thorns.

“Girls!” Freddie muttered in a disparaging tone. “I’ll go then.”

“I don’t believe you should, Freddie. You’ll tear your—”

But Freddie was already on his hands and knees. He disappeared into a runnel between the densely planted rose bushes.

“Ow! I’m caught,” he yelled a moment later.

“Oh. Wait. Stay there. There’s help coming.” Faith looked around for assistance. No servant had emerged from the house, so she removed her hat and dropped down to crawl after him. She’d almost reached him when thorns grabbed her skirt and held tight. “Oh bother.” She twisted to try to free herself. “Don’t move, Freddie. You’ll tear your…” she began again but, this time, was interrupted by a frightful ripping sound.

“I tore my trousers,” Freddie said in a shocked tone. “Nanny Greengage is going to be cross.”

Faith fumbled behind at her skirt, but with no room to turn and inspect the damage, it was difficult. Freddie, having freed himself, crawled over to her. They studied each other face to face.