Lady Faith Takes a Leap (8 page)

“I can’t get past you,” he said, as if he expected her to give way.

“But I can’t move,” Faith said crossly. “You shall have to wait.”

“Wait?” His impatient expression made him appear very much like the rest of the Brandreth men. Lord Frederick did not like to wait. In addition, no female would be so presumptuous to expect him to.

“Yes. Wait,” she said firmly. “You shall have to be patient.” She huffed out a breath and blew away a wisp of her hair, which had landed in her eyes, as her fingers worked to free her skirt. Her arm cramped, and a thorn scratched her hand. 

****

Even a few moments alone with Faith seemed dangerous and filled with possibilities. Aware of his brother’s disapproval, Vaughn thought it prudent to quit the room. Instead of pulling the cord, he went in search of a footman to order the tea. He returned to the salon planning to make his apologies and leave. He spun around. Where had Faith got to? He hadn’t come across her in the passage, and as his mother was yet to arrive, Faith hadn’t left the house. The curtains stirred and drew him to the French windows. He stepped out onto the terrace.

A lady’s hat adorned with violets lay on the lawn. In the rose garden, several bushes shook violently, scattering petals. Intrigued, he leapt down onto the lawn and walked toward the garden bed, spying something blue amongst the green.

“Is that you in there, Faith?” he called, incredulous.

“Uncle Vaughn?” Freddie’s head bobbed up above the bushes.

Vaughn gave a bark of laughter. “What on earth are you doing in the middle of the garden, Freddie?”

“I got caught. I tore my trousers. Now I can’t get out because Lady Faith is in the way.”

Vaughn hunkered down to find a pleasingly shaped derriere in amongst the bushes. 

“I’m snagged on a bush,” Faith said, her fingers working at the material.

Vaughn struggled to suppress his amusement. “I can see that.”

He edged forward on his knees until he was right behind her then carefully removed the thorns, freeing her skirt. “You can back out now.”

Vaughn enjoyed the way her derriere swayed as she edged back onto the lawn, which filled his mind with extremely pleasant if ribald thoughts. He assisted her to her feet, and when she turned to face him, her face was as red as a hothouse tomato. A chuckle escaped his lips as he brushed his hands over his soiled knees.

“Is there a particular reason why you were crawling amongst the roses?” He picked up her hat and handed it to her.  

“Freddie’s ball,” she said, taking the hat from him, her tone condemning any further discussion.

“Ah.”

Freddie scampered into view. “I found my ball!” He jumped up with the offending toy clutched in a grubby hand. Then he dropped his head, crestfallen. “But I’ve torn my trousers.”

“Viscount Altham!” Nanny Greengage stood on the terrace, arms akimbo. “Where have you been? And what have you done to your clothes? Come to the nursery, please, my lord.”

An abashed Freddie disappeared into the house with Nanny following.

Faith brushed the dirt and leaves from her skirt. Discovering a rip near the hem, she murmured her dismay and raised the skirt to inspect it, affording him a pleasing view of shapely ankles and calves. “I can’t go out with your mother looking like this.”

“The housekeeper, Mrs. Gillies, will set you to rights,” Vaughn said. “It was kind of you to try and help Freddie.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I should have gone in search of a servant.”

“If I know Freddie, you wouldn’t have had a chance,” Vaughn said with a laugh. Reaching over, he plucked a leaf from hair the color of wild meadow daisies. He dropped his hand before he gave in to the urge to remove the pins. Would her tresses reach down to her fetching derrière? He coughed. “You were playing a game?”

Her eyes warmed with amusement. “I failed to catch the ball. I’m afraid Freddie’s opinion of a female’s sporting prowess may now be irredeemably damaged.”

Vaughn threw back his head and laughed. “Freddie’s a great lad, isn’t he?”

“Yes, despite being a Brandreth,” she said with a playful smile.

“What? You don’t approve of us?”

“Brandreth men are a determined lot. Heaven help anyone who thwarts you.”

He took her by the elbow, steering her into the salon. “I’m pleased you realize that.”

She widened her impossibly blue eyes. “Why?”

“Because when I’m called upon to rescue you from your next scrape, I don’t wish to spend valuable time arguing with you.”

“And what scrapes would those be, my lord?”

“I recall the first occurred when you were stuck in a tree some years ago. The second, well, it wouldn’t be fair to go into that one. And now this. What would you have done without my help?”

“I would have managed.”

He eyed the sky through the window with a smirk. “It wouldn’t do to still be in the rose garden. It’s about to rain.”

She raised her chin, and her temptingly curved mouth quivered. “I believe you are teasing me.”

Vaughn blinked and hastily bowed. “I must leave you, I’m afraid. My business.”

As the spring was in the very center of Tunbridge Wells, the carriage ride took little more than half an hour. Lady Brandreth had invited Faith to ride with her, as her mother, suffering a slight chill, had declined the invitation. Faith settled on the velvet squabs in the luxurious barouche drawn by matching greys, a little intimidated by the dowager, who was known to be a woman who spoke her mind.

They had barely left Brandreth Park when Lady Brandreth crossed her gloved hands in her lap and settled her vivid green gaze on Faith. “I expected you to be married by now, or at least engaged, after your come out. You attracted many suitors.”

“I met no one I wished to marry,” Faith said.

The Dowager gave an approving nod. “I heard you sent Lord Fitzgibbon packing. A wise decision. His mother would have made your life a misery, as she does her son. I was surprised you went against your father’s wishes, however.”

Faith lifted her chin. Vaughn’s comment that she lacked fortitude still rankled. “I am not a namby-pamby miss, Lady Brandreth.”

The dowager chuckled. “Neither you are. You have a good deal of spirit, my girl, and don’t forget it.” She did not elaborate, however, and as the carriage drew up at Tunbridge Wells, Faith was left to wonder why Lady Brandreth took a sudden interest in her. 

They joined the rest of the small party outside the spring, where a servant waited to offer them the waters. Lady Montrose’s daughter, Rosamond, had come with her and her ladyship’s brother, Lord Whitworth.

“Isn’t Lord Vaughn coming today?” Rosamond searched the busy colonnade.

“I don’t believe so. He mentioned a business matter.”

“Business? Gentlemen have little to do with business. Mother will see that as a rebuff. She won’t be pleased.” Rosamond frowned. “Mother believes gentlemen to be shamefully unreliable.”

Perhaps Lady Montrose wanted Vaughn to marry Rosamond. Perhaps he would. Dismayed by the sad throb in her chest, Faith plastered on a smile as she was introduced to Lord Whitworth. A widower, the tall, grey-haired gentleman had deep grooves radiating from the corners of his hazel eyes as if he smiled a lot. He promptly took the two older ladies by their arms and steered them over to the table covered by a white cloth, where the servant called a Dipper awaited them.

Rosamond hung back. “You saw Lord Vaughn today?”

“Yes, at Brandreth Park this morning.” Faith bit her lip, recalling the unfortunate episode with Freddie. Had Vaughn been laughing at her?

“I believe you are neighbors.” Rosamond and Faith followed slowly after the others. Rosamond sighed. “I do wish he’d come. He’s always tremendously good company and so very handsome, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he has a good sense—”

“Mother wants me to marry him,” Rosamond confessed. “But it’s more about her needs than mine.”

“Why?”

“She just wants to be connected to the Brandreth family; even Vaughn’s reputation doesn’t deter her.”

“How do you feel—?”

“I shan’t take the waters,” Rosamond said, cutting Faith off midsentence. “I’m sure it has a hideous taste! It is reputed to cure all sorts of ills. I don’t suffer from moist brain, or other dreadful complaints.” The corners of her mouth turned down with a disgusted mew. “I find this all a dreadful waste of time, don’t you?”

“I’ve never actually—”

“Are you and your parents to attend the grand ball here on Saturday evening?”

Faith nodded, doubting Rosamond required an answer. She had launched into a description of her new gown, which she would wear to the ball, fashioned in the latest style. “I like the waistline lower, do not you? I hope this ball doesn’t prove to be dull. Tunbridge Wells is so frightfully countrified. I’d much rather live in London.”

“Most of London visits here at one time or another,” Faith ventured. “And the air is much fresher.”

“You prefer Tunbridge Wells to London? You must be of a quieter nature than I.”

Faith had begun to feel superfluous in this one-sided conversation. “I don’t believe I—”

“I wonder if you would help me, Lady Faith.”

“If I can.”

“Persuade Lord Vaughn to come to the ball.”

“He is not likely to do what I tell him,” Faith said.

“I’m sure he will. Your sister Honor has married into the family. And can you then endeavor to send him to me?”

“I am not sure—” Faith gave up. Rosamond was confident of her charms and used to getting what she wanted. But she seemed nervous. Was she madly in love with Vaughn? It was hard to tell. She was mercurial by nature and seemed always to be involved in an intrigue. Faith doubted she would take no for an answer. “If I can.”

“Good.” Rosamond tugged at her sleeve. “Look. My uncle seems taken with the dowager. Perhaps we’ll all be connected to the Brandreths in one way or another.”

Faith managed a weak smile. “I think I will try the waters.”

“If only more men had been invited today. Really, what a total waste of a day!”

“I expected Mr. Sefton to come,” Faith said. “I hope he has not met with an accident.”

“Oh well, Mr. Sefton’s company will brighten the outing I suppose.” Irritated, Rosamond shrugged her shoulders.

It was impossible to guess Rosamond’s true wishes. But Faith had to admit that Vaughn’s presence would enliven the afternoon, as would Mr. Sefton’s, she added with a guilty intake of breath.

“Are you taking the waters, Faith?” The dowager’s cheeks were rosy. Faith wondered if the water had produced it, or the attentions of the elegant Lord Whitworth.

Faith took the dipper from the servant in the white apron and frilly cap. The reddish-colored water smelt and indeed tasted strongly of minerals. She swallowed the bitter brew and tried not to cough.

When they’d all partaken, even Rosamond at her mother’s insistence, they planned next to take afternoon tea at the coffee house. Mr. Sefton rushed to meet them.

“I do apologize for my tardiness, Lady Brandreth, Lady Montrose….” He greeted each with an earnest bow. “An upturned dogcart on the road held up the carriage for a good twenty minutes!” His gaze settled on Faith. “I do hope I’m forgiven.”

“Of course you’re forgiven,” Lady Brandreth said brusquely. “But please let us go and have our tea. After that spring water, I feel an urgent need of it.”

The party left the spring and walked along the colonnaded walkway. Faith’s gaze settled on a man walking ahead of them. His fair hair beneath his hat and the way he strolled along, swinging his cane, was familiar. She tensed. It was Mr. Warne! She thought he’d left Tunbridge Wells. Had business brought him back again?

Mr. Sefton offered her his arm while inquiring how she’d found the waters. She watched Mr. Warne disappear into a shop. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Sefton, I was distracted for a moment. I thought I saw someone I knew. The waters were so unpalatable they surely must be good for one.”

Later, having enjoyed refreshments, the small party returned to their waiting carriages. Lady Rosamond gave Faith a final persuasive reminder of her request while Lord Whitworth took Lady Brandreth’s hand and held it to his lips for rather a long time.

In the carriage, the dowager’s cheeks were still tinged with pink. The trip home continued in dreamy silence, leaving Faith free to contemplate Mr. Sefton. Unlike Vaughn’s, Sefton’s gaze had never warmed with wicked humor. He had, in fact, displayed very little humor at all. Sefton never said anything inappropriate that would discomfit her. Nor did he challenge her. He was solicitous, without being too humble, and courteous, and the interest he displayed in her never went beyond the bounds of propriety. Solid was a word that came to mind to describe Mr. Sefton. Honor’s words came back to her.

“A man doesn’t have to be brilliant or terribly exciting to be wonderful.”

Mr. Sefton would be a good family man, reliable, firm enough with their children, without being overbearing. She sighed and gazed out the window.

“Was that sigh for Mr. Sefton?” Lady Brandreth suddenly focused clear, assessing eyes on Faith.

Under that sharp gaze, Faith could be nothing but honest. “I wish I knew if he was right for me, Lady Brandreth.”

“You must be very sure, my dear. This is your whole life. And in one fell swoop, you may crush all of your ambitions.”

“I don’t believe I am ambitious, Lady Brandreth.”

“You are, in essence, a quite single-minded young lady,” Lady Brandreth said with a fond smile. “You need to be very honest with yourself, Faith, before events overtake you.”

****

Disheartened, Vaughn rode back to Brandreth Park. The farm he’d inspected was too hilly for horses, and the one he’d considered perfect now had an interested purchaser. What good would the property have been to him anyway when Chaloner was like an unmovable rock? How could he convince his brother? Chaloner would never understand. He’d always had everyone’s respect without lifting a finger. A perfectly proper eldest son, responsible, reliable, and a damn stuffed shirt! Vaughn’s hand tightened on the reins, and his horse broke from its smooth canter.