Lucasta (5 page)

Lord Kennington drove his curricle away from the Pigeons some half an hour later, trying to keep a steady pace and avoid any jolting to Potts, who was sitting beside him, his injured leg supported on pillows and wrapped up in a
quantity
of blankets. For this luxury he had Lucasta to thank, although he looked anything but grateful for the attention he was receiving. The viscount flicked him an amused glance as he pulled out on to the road.

‘Cheer up, Jacob, once we get to Coombe Chase I will hand you over to my godmother’s people. And we’ll get the estate doctor to come and have a look at that wound, too.’

‘A jug of home-brewed and a bit o’ peace and quiet is all I needs, sir.’ He cast a quick look over his shoulder to where Lucasta was sitting in the rumble seat, looking about her with interest. ‘Not that I’m complainin’, I know many a master would have gone on and left me to shift for meself.’

‘So might I have done if the Pigeons had been a bigger establishment. I fear it is frequented only by the local people who come to the common to graze their animals and gather firewood.’

‘And I had no great opinion of the landlady,’ put in Lucasta over their shoulders. ‘I suspect the sheets were not aired.’

Neither man commented on this dereliction, considering themselves above such womanly concerns and Lucasta, thus chastened, returned her attention to the passing
countryside
.

It might have been expected that she would be anxious about the forthcoming meeting with the Duchess of Filwood, but concern for Mr Potts’ condition was uppermost in her mind and it was not until they had seen the groom carried to a spare bedroom and delivered into the care of the estate doctor that she thought of her own situation. As the viscount led her through the warren of corridors that led from the servants’ quarters to the main reception rooms, doubts began to assail her and she wondered aloud if she should perhaps wait in the hall while Lord Kennington apprised his godmother of her presence.

The viscount did not reply, for as they emerged into the great hall the duchess’s stately butler came forward to inform them that her grace was awaiting them in the
morning
-room. The viscount put his arm about Lucasta’s drooping shoulders.

‘There, you see, Luke, the tale is half-told already. Come along now, it is time to make your bow to my godmama.’

He led the way into the morning-room. Following close behind him, Lucasta peeped past the viscount at the lady waiting to greet them and her spirits sank. The Duchess of Filwood presented a striking figure, dressed in a closed robe of sapphire blue satin embellished at the neck and elbows with a froth of blond lace. Her grey-powdered hair was piled high and topped by a lace cap, adding to her already
imposing
height. However, when Lucasta turned her gaze to the duchess’s face she was relieved to see that her blue eyes twinkled with merriment and she was uttering warm words of welcome to the viscount. Lord Kennington took her
outstretched hand.

‘Your Grace.’ He made an elegant bow over her fingers. ‘Firstly my apologies for being so late – I had planned to be here yesterday, hard on the heels of my baggage cart.’

The duchess gave a throaty chuckle.

‘Punctuality is not something I associate with young gentlemen: I am well aware that there are always
temptations
on the road, usually a mill or a landlord’s daughter! However, this time I understand you were caught up in a true adventure, resulting in your groom taking a bullet in his leg.’

‘A flesh wound, ma’am, nothing more. I have left Potts to the tender mercies of your local sawbones, who confirms Potts’ own assertion that to restore him to health he requires nothing more than a clean bed and good food. I know he is assured of both under your roof.’

‘What was it, footpads?’

‘Aye, Your Grace, upon the heath. Potts took a bullet to the thigh but my young friend here gave them their own again, and almost winged one of the villains.’ Lord Kennington beckoned to Lucasta. ‘Come forward, Luke, and make your bow.’

Nervously Lucasta stepped up, made a flourishing bow and tentatively raised her eyes to her hostess. She suffered something of a shock to find she was regarding her with a look of wicked amusement in her eyes.

‘Well, Adam, why this masquerade? What mischief are you up to now?’

‘You are not deceived, then Godmama.’

‘Of course not.’

The viscount laughed.

‘You are awake upon every suit, as ever, ma’am.’ He drew Lucasta a little closer. ‘Your Grace, allow me to present to
you Miss Lucasta Symonds.’

‘Delighted to meet you, Miss Symonds – no, do not try to curtsey to me in those breeches, child, your bow was elegant enough.’ She cast a quick, speculative look towards her godson. ‘Is this an elopement?’

‘Good God no!’

Lucasta had been about the disclaim but the viscount’s swift utterance made her close her mouth again, a faint blush settling over her cheeks as she listened to his frank explanation of her reasons for running away and how he had come to take her up.

‘So you see, Your Grace, it was my intention to bring Miss Symonds to you yesterday. Unfortunately the footpads put paid to my plans. We were obliged to put up at an inn overnight, and now, madam, we are in a devil of a fix, if you will not help us.’

‘Then we must see what is to be done. Pray ring the bell, Adam, and we shall take a dish of tea together. I usually rely on Mr Giggs to organize these little luxuries but he is not here.’

‘Now you come to mention it, where
is
Giggs?’ asked the viscount when he had sent a footman running to the kitchens.

‘He is gone to the village to visit the rector. We must be thankful for it: he has a nose for scandal so we must do what we can to keep this from him.’ She turned to Lucasta. ‘Mr Giggs is a very worthy gentleman sent to live with me by my son, the present duke, who fears that if I am left to my own devices I may get up to mischief and bring his good name into disrepute.’ She sighed. ‘It is sad to think that my only son has turned out to be such a dull-pickle.’

‘Nothing like his parents,’ murmured Adam, his smile robbing the words of any offence.

‘Nothing at all,’ agreed his godmother with feeling. ‘His poor father was a sad rake – until he married me, of course. After that he was only a little … wild. Perhaps, knowing the world as we did, we were too strict with Charles, but he is sadly lacking in spirit.’ She straightened up in her chair. ‘But we must not repine, especially when you have brought me such a diversion.’

Lucasta flushed under her smiling look.

‘I apologize for the disguise, ma’am but I thought it would be safer to travel thus.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ agreed the duchess. ‘If one is determined to escape a distasteful marriage one should try to avoid an even more unpleasant fate.’ She tapped her fan against her lips, her eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Who has seen you in this guise?’

Lucasta swallowed painfully.

‘The landlord at the Pigeons, his wife and the stable-boy … and your servants, when we brought Mr Potts in.’

‘So many? But I have no doubt that they were all taken in by your disguise.’

‘
You
were not, ma’am,’ ventured Lucasta.

‘No, but it was my godson’s grinning countenance that put me on my guard.’ She took Lucasta’s chin between her fingers and turned her face up. ‘Hmm, you are a
pleasant-enough
schoolboy but methinks you would make a much fairer maid.’ She looked up at the sound of a scratching on the door. ‘Ah, Mr Giggs, you are back at last.’

Lucasta stepped back as a tall, spare gentleman entered the room and made a low bow to the duchess. He was dressed in a plain black coat and breeches and wore a
full-bottomed
wig of the type worn by doctors and clerics. When he spoke his tone was clipped and precise: Lucasta wondered if he was perhaps a lawyer.

‘Your Grace, deepest apologies for my long absence. Mr Williams was indisposed and I was obliged to spend some time comforting his lady.’ He drew out a white square of muslin and dabbed at his brow. ‘They fear there may be influenza in the village.’

The duchess held up her hand.

‘If that is so then come no nearer, Mr Giggs. You will see that my godson and his young friend are come to visit me and I would not have you infect them.’

‘I assure Your Grace that I have not—’

‘Enough! My dear man I can see already that you are sadly flushed. Tell me that you are not running a
temperature
.’

‘Well, ma’am now you come to mention it I am feeling a little hot …’

‘Then get you to your room immediately and send for a hot brick for your feet. Swift action now may well prevent a
virulent
attack. You shall be attended, sir.’

‘Madam, I hardly think—’

‘I will not be gainsaid,’ her grace interrupted him
ruthlessly
. ‘You must go to bed immediately, Mr Giggs, and stay there until Dr Harbottle gives you leave to get up again.’

‘Your ladyship is all goodness, but I cannot neglect my duties so—’

‘Nonsense sir, consider it your duty to keep your infection to yourself. Off you go now, man.’

Mr Giggs hesitated a moment more, but the duchess stared at him so fiercely that with a final bow to the company he left the room. She waited until the door was closed again then sank down into her chair and began to fan herself.

‘We are safe, I think. He did not look too closely at you, my dear.’

‘And will he take to his bed, ma’am?’ asked Lucasta,
wide-eyed
.

‘Very likely. The poor man has a morbid fear of illness. It is most useful, when I have had enough of his company, to suggest that he might be ailing. Dr Harbottle will suggest he keeps to his bed for a few days and he will not worry us.’

‘He is a tale-bearer,’ said Adam scornfully. ‘You should turn him off.’

She spread her hands. ‘What good would that do? Filwood might foist upon me some poor, impoverished relative and I should be obliged to pity them: at least with Mr Giggs I do not feel in the least sorry for him, and therefore I can laugh at him. But enough of that tiresome man – what are we going to do with
you
, Miss Symonds?’

‘We must deliver her to her mama, of course, with all speed,’ said the viscount.

‘Yes, yes, but the child can go no further today.’ She turned to Lucasta. ‘Unfortunately, you must keep up this pretence for a while longer: you have been seen by far too many of my staff, and with the exception of Calder, my dresser I would trust none of them with such a secret.’

Lucasta indicated her muddied raiment.

‘But, Your Grace, I did not expect to be on the road so long. ‘I have no more clothes with me – no boy’s clothes, that is.’

‘Well, Adam must lend you a clean neck-cloth and as for the rest – we must set it about that in your encounter with the footpads your baggage was lost. I shall put you in the chamber next to my own, and Calder shall see what can be done to clean your clothes tonight.’

The viscount picked up her hand again.

‘Your Grace, you never disappoint me.’

She smiled up at him.

‘And you, Adam, never fail to entertain!’

The duchess ordered an early dinner, saying she would not change her dress, since her young guest was not in a position to do so. Three covers were set at one end of the enormous mahogany dining table and although Lucasta had been afraid that she would be too nervous to eat, the efforts of her grace’s excellent French cook were too tempting to be ignored and with her hostess and the viscount both
recommending
various dishes to her, she was soon replete.

‘You are looking a little tired, young man,’ observed the duchess as the final dishes were cleared away. ‘Perhaps you would like to retire?’ She waited until the last footman had left the room and added quietly, ‘It would not be seemly for you to sit over the brandy with Kennington, you know.’

Very much at her ease, Lucasta giggled.

‘No indeed, Your Grace. I shall use the excitement of the day as my excuse to leave you.’

‘Can you remember your chamber? Do not be afraid to ask for directions: this is a very confusing old house and guests frequently lose their way in the corridors.’

‘Thank you ma’am, I believe I shall find it. Goodnight, Your Grace – Lord Kennington.’

The duchess held out her hand, saying languidly, ‘You may kiss my fingers … there, very elegantly done! Off you go now: I shall have a light supper sent up to you later.’ She waited until Lucasta had left the room before requesting the viscount to refill her wineglass.

‘What a charming young person! But, Adam, you must tell me the truth now – what do you mean by her, do you have designs upon – er – Luke?’

‘Good heavens, no! It was just as I told you, I found her intent upon running away and thought she would be safer
with me than wandering alone on the highway.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Now if it was her sister …’

‘Ah, so your actions are not entirely altruistic. I am relieved,’ murmured the duchess, a twinkle in her sharp eyes. ‘And is the sister very beautiful?’

He sat back, a little smile playing about his mouth.

‘As soft and appealing as a late-summer peach. Her mama has taken her to London for her come-out and I intend to follow her – she is such a beauty that I must act fast before she is snapped up by some other suitor.’

The duchess looked up in some alarm.

‘So you are serious this time.’

‘Never more so, Godmama. As you remind me often, I am six and twenty: it is high time I found myself a wife. Camilla Symonds is a sweet-natured beauty. Her parentage is good – she comes from one of the oldest families in Shropshire. All in all I think she will do very well for me!’

The duchess raised her glass to him.

‘Well then, Adam, I look forward to meeting this paragon!’

In keeping with her charade, Lucasta had been supplied with a nightshirt and a gentleman’s dressing gown, both of which were far too big for her and she struggled to move around the elegant guest chamber allotted to her. As promised a light supper was brought to her room but the servants were under the impression that they were serving a young gentleman and loaded the tray accordingly. Lucasta found no fault with the quantity of cheese and cold meats, but she would have preferred a dish of tea or even a glass of wine to the brandy and ale supplied for her refreshment. However, she did not think it wise to complain and settled down to enjoy her solitary meal. She was curled up in an armchair reading when a narrow door in the panelling opened and the duchess appeared.

‘Well now, my dear, do you have everything you need?’

‘Y-yes, thank you, Your Grace.’ Lucasta struggled out of the chair. ‘Calder has taken my coat for brushing and she has promised to have my shirt washed and dry by morning.’ She looked down at the silken folds of the dressing gown puddling around her feet. ‘I fear I do not match up to Your Grace’s usual guests.’

The duchess chuckled.

‘You look charming, my dear – except for your hair.’

Lucasta reached up to touch the ragged curls hanging about her shoulders.

‘Oh dear, is it so bad? It reached down to my waist, you see, and was far too long for any gentleman so I was obliged to cut it.’

‘I quite understand that, however, I think we can improve upon it.’ She indicated the door behind her. ‘The beauty of this chamber is that it adjoins my own apartments: come through to my dressing-room. I have scissors and a comb there and we shall see what can be done to make you more presentable.’

She led the way through the connecting doors into a
high-ceilinged
room decorated in shades of cream and pink,
illuminated
by numerous candles.

‘Do you like it? I had it decorated to my own taste when I first moved here. I was newly widowed, you see but I have never liked sombre colours.’ She gently pushed Lucasta down on to the stool near the dressing table and lifted her hair in one hand. ‘Dear me,’ she said, a slight tremor in her voice, ‘did you cut this in the dark?’

‘Well, I could not quite reach,’ admitted Lucasta. ‘I was obliged to pull it over my shoulder and I think perhaps I was a little careless.’

‘Yes, I can quite see that. Well, let me see what I can do.’

When Miss Symonds went downstairs the following morning she entered the breakfast room with something very like a swagger. A quick glance around assured her that only Lord Kennington was present and she said, dimpling, ‘Well, my lord, what do you think?’

The viscount had risen upon her entrance and he regarded her now with a decided twinkle in his grey eyes.

‘You look very smart, Master Luke.’

‘Thank you, my lord. My coat has been brushed and pressed, my shirt washed and my hair cut to a neatness. I am very respectable now, am I not?’

Adam watched her preening herself before the mirror. There was a definite charm about her in her old-fashioned frock-coat. Her hair, freshly cut and scooped back into a queue, was the colour of liquid honey in the morning light. His lips twitched.

‘You are a veritable coxcomb. Sit down and break your fast before you wear out the mirror.’

She came to the table, a faint flush suffusing her cheeks. He laughed.

‘No, no, I am merely teasing you, Luke. You look very well, I promise you. Would you like me to order you some coffee?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ She took a seat opposite the viscount and helped herself to a slice of bread and butter. ‘Shall we go on to London today, sir?’

‘No, it is Sunday: I never travel on a Sunday. Besides I fear one of my bays is a little lame, and without Potts to look at her I think I shall let her rest another day.’

‘Oh dear. And if she should indeed prove to be lame?’

‘I have no doubt the duchess will allow me to use one of her teams. Do not look so worried, Luke, I shall get you to London in a day or so, never fear.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

He looked up.

‘My lord? Why so formal? I have grown used to you calling me Adam.’

She blushed but did not reply for at that moment the
footman
opened the door for the duchess to enter, followed by a servant bearing a fresh pot of coffee. Morning greetings were exchanged and the duchess took her seat.

‘Poor Mr Giggs is no better today,’ she informed them solemnly. ‘I am afraid we must amuse ourselves.’

‘I must go to the stables to check on my horses,’ said Adam. ‘And I want to see how Potts goes on. After that I am at your disposal for the rest of the day. What would you like to do, Luke? A little shooting, perhaps, or we could play billiards …’

The duchess dismissed her servants with a word.

‘I think not,’ she continued quietly. ‘Luke’s disguise makes her no less a lady, Adam, and as such I must not allow her to be alone with you. Pray do not argue, sir: believe me, I would not have either of you compromised. I think it would be best if Luke spent the day in my company. You, Adam, may amuse yourself as best you may.’

Lucasta did not dare to argue with her hostess, but the look she cast Lord Kenington was eloquent enough to make him laugh out loud.

‘Poor Luke, there is no need to be so dismayed. You need not think the duchess will keep you yawning over your needlework all day. If I know my godmother she will have much more interesting ways to entertain you!’

She did not look convinced, but when they all met up again shortly before the dinner hour it was clear that Lucasta and the duchess were already firm friends. They were seated together before the fire and as Lord Kennington entered the room Lucasta turned an animated countenance towards him.

‘Oh, Adam, we have had such fun today! Madame Duchess drove me to church in her phaeton. It is so high I could see over all the hedges and walls! Then we went to visit Her Grace’s gamekeeper – one of his spaniels has whelped and we were allowed to see the litter. There was the most adorable little bitch with one white ear, smaller than all the
others and not at all so forward. Madame Duchess says they will all need homes, but if I am going to London it would not be quite fair to take a pup with me, would it?’

‘No indeed,’ he replied. ‘Nor would it be fair to take such a young creature away from its mother.’

She gave a sigh.

‘No, I quite see that, so I have quite given up the idea of taking her with me, but Madam Duchess says that if she is not homed by the end of the season I make take her back to Shropshire with me.’

‘Not in my carriage!’

She laughed at him.

‘No, of course not. I shall be travelling with Mama and Camilla. Madam Duchess says we may call in on our way to see if the puppy is unclaimed. And it is very likely that she will still be here, because she is so much smaller than the others and not half so pretty, is she Madam Duchess?’

The duchess smiled and threw a swift, mischievous look at her godson.

‘I fear she is overshadowed by her siblings.’

‘And what of your day, sir?’ said Lucasta as the viscount took a seat beside her. ‘Did you see Jacob, will he be well enough to travel tomorrow?’

‘I am afraid not. The wound is healing well but it will be better if he rests the leg for a few more days yet. We shall have to go on without him.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘I have set it about that I am taking Luke to Droitwich where he can pick up a coach.’

‘Excellent.’ The duchess nodded approvingly. ‘Thus Master Smith can disappear into the north country. I shall dispatch Calder shortly before you set off so that you can take her up on the road – she will then act as chaperon until you reach London. Once Luke is safely restored to her mama, Calder
shall purchase her ticket on the mail coach to return here.’

Lucasta looked from the duchess to Lord Kennington, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘I really do not know how to thank you both. You have been so kind to me.’

The duchess waved aside her thanks.

‘Nonsense child, I have enjoyed having you to stay and I hope we shall have the pleasure of entertaining Miss Lucasta Symonds here at some future date.’

A quiet dinner was followed by an early night and the duchess was present to say goodbye the next morning. The viscount refused to allow his godmother to venture out of doors because of the chill wind and they took their leave in the echoing marble hall. Impulsively, Lucasta stepped forward to kiss the duchess’s scented cheek.

‘I shall not forget your kindness, Madam Duchess,’ she whispered, her voice breaking.

The duchess pulled her closer, and Lucasta found herself enveloped in a warm embrace.

‘Dear child, I have grown very fond of you, even in this short time. There, there, go along with you.’ The duchess patted her shoulder. ‘We shall meet again, I am sure. Off you go now. God speed, Adam, and take care of Master Smith!’

‘You may be sure I will, Your Grace. Tell Potts to join me in London as soon as he is able.’

They climbed into the curricle, the stable lad holding the horses jumped aside and they set off down the drive at a cracking pace. Lucasta leaned over the back of the seat to take a last look at Coombe Chase.

‘I do like your godmama, Adam.’ She turned and sank back onto her seat with a sigh. ‘Do you think she will let me visit her again one day?’

‘Very likely. When she likes someone she will go to any lengths for them and she was very taken with you. Now,’ he said, whipping up his team, ‘We must find the estimable Calder, who should be waiting for us somewhere on this road, then we can set about losing young Master Smith.’