The American Bride (5 page)

Remembering her impression of Wilton's arrogance, it was inconceivable to Cara that Julian could ever be forced to do anything against his will. "I knew he was debauched," she muttered.

At the sound of voices in the hall, Cara sprang to her feet, brushing out the wrinkles in her skirt. Her heart pounded nervously as she waited to meet the children. At her own faint-heartedness she stamped her foot impatiently. After all they were only children. This part of her masquerade should be easy, she reasoned naively.

Chapter Three

Cara bit her lower lip nervously. She knew how crucial this first meeting with the children would be. If they liked her, the month would pass quickly. However if the children preferred, they could make her time at Weathersfield quite unpleasant.

The new schoolroom glowed in the flickering candlelight and a fire crackled in the otherwise silent room. Comfortable chairs were circled in front of the hearth. An overstuffed sofa, patterned in a cheerful Scottish plaid, was pulled up to a low table, set with a mouth-watering assortment of cakes and pastries. The sweet smell of hot chocolate pervaded the air.

The door opened on a slight, sullen-faced boy.

Despite the frown, which Cara suspected was his habitual expression, Richard Weathersfield was a handsome boy. His light brown hair was cut in the Brutus style, curling riotously, despite the pomade that had been used to keep it in place. He was dressed in a dark brown velvet jacket, cut in the same fashion as his guardian. His cravat was simpler but the material was just as expensive as Wilton's had been. At least, Cara thought grudgingly, Julian did not appear to stint on the children's expenses. Under the gaze of steady blue eyes, Cara waited as the boy conducted his own scrutiny.

"I don't like governesses," Richard announced.

"That shows that you're growing up," Cara stated, her voice matter-of-fact. "I always hated mine."

"Did you?" Then before Cara could frame an answer, he continued in an aggrieved tone. "Actually I don't much like anything. Everything's frightfully boring."

With a graceful nod, Cara hid her amusement at his world-weary attitude. "I suppose it could be boring for a very young child. But now that you're nine, you probably find you are bored by things that used to interest you."

The boy was torn between his customary frown and a look of curiosity. The scowl won out, leaving his face petulant and his carriage slouched.

Before she could comment further, the door was thrown open and Agnes, the maid, appeared, dragging by the neck of her dress, what, Cara could only assume, was Belin.

Tangled black curls covered the child's head and shoulders. Curls that had not seen a brush, let alone water, for many days, hung down her back. Her dress was torn and streaked with dirt. Her scrawny arms and hands were smudged and scratched. Not ungently, Agnes deposited the girl on the rug in front of Cara and then beat a hasty retreat.

Looking down at the child, Cara flinched at the wide brown eyes which so closely resembled Lord Wilton's. She schooled her features into peaceful lines and tried not to wrinkle her nose with distaste at the child. Catching a glimmer of Belin's expression through her tangled hair, Cara's mouth widened into a grin.

"My stars, Belin. You must turn this entire household upside down," Cara chuckled with genuine amusement.

"Don't you laugh at me or I'll put a spell on you," the child snarled, looking as though she might bite in her angry frustration.

"I wouldn't waste your time, Belin. It wouldn't work on me anyway."

"Why not?" the girl asked.

"You see, I wasn't born in England. And I don't think any of your spells would work on someone from America." Cara leaned forward in unconcern and poured out three cups of chocolate. Richard accepted his cup with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that was returned by Cara. "Now, Belin, since it is my first night here, I will excuse a little dirt on your hands. But tomorrow if you wish chocolate or pastries I expect clean hands."

Then before the startled child could form a retort, Cara handed her a cup of chocolate and commenced to tell the two wide-eyed children about her ship's voyage to England. Perhaps the storms and adventures were more violent than had actually occurred but there was no one to contradict her. By the time the pot of chocolate was empty and the plate of cakes bore nothing but crumbs, Cara had given the children the idea that she had many more stories to tell. Sensing it was close to their bedtime, she handed them into the care of the servants. With a sigh of relief Cara sank to the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Staring into the dying flames, Cara realized she had only made a start with the children. The sullen Richard, at nine, was caught in the painful early stages of manhood. His breeding was evident in his perfect manners and intelligent, though stilted conversation. He did not appear to be shy but was bottled up with some unnamed tension. It was obvious that he was controlling his feelings under a layer of lassitude. Cara thought she would enjoy challenging Richard with new experiences until he released whatever emotions he had sealed away.

It was Belin who was the puzzle.

In her mind's eye Cara could recall the sad brown eyes in the dirty face. Something was tearing the six year old apart so that she lashed out in anger. Although her behavior appeared undisciplined there was a certain quality of intelligent planning that showed in her mannerisms. What catastrophe had befallen the child that she was in such a state of rebellion? Cara doubted that it was the death of the children’s' parents. From the servants' gossip the children had seldom been in their parents' company. Like most upper class children Belin and Richard had spent their time with governesses and others on the estate.

"How could Wilton have let this happen?" Cara fumed aloud.

The flames expanded to new life as a current of air circulated in the room from the opening door. Cara's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the shadowy figure framed in the doorway. For a moment she thought that she had merely conjured an image of her husband and she blinked her eyes to dispel the vision.

"Good evening, Miss Farraday."

Julian's deep voice sent a shiver along Cara's spine, breaking the almost magical spell that had held her in thrall. She scrambled to her feet, standing rigid with her back to the fire. As she stood tongue-tied, feeling graceless and childlike, anger suffused her at her inability to appear poised in the presence of her husband.

"G-good evening, Lord Wilton," she stammered out.

"I see that I have missed the children." Julian nodded toward the tray of dirty dishes. "Must have tarried too long over my brandy."

Warily Cara noted the snifter in Julian's hand and wondered just how much the man had

drunk. Although his movements as he approached the fire were well coordinated and his speech was not slurred, Cara straightened her back, preparing to deal with the man if, in fact, he were foxed.

"I'm sorry but the children have already retired, Lord Wilton. Perhaps another evening," Cara offered, hinting for the man to leave.

"The room looks well," Julian said, waving the snifter to indicate his approval. "I doubt if I've been up here since I was a babe."

"It's a beautiful room." Cara spoke warmly then blushed as Wilton's eyes swung around to her. She was infuriated at her own reaction to Julian's presence. Staring at the toes of her boots, she cursed her lack of backbone.

The silence was broken by the sounds of Julian's steps as he strolled around the room. As he neared the windows Cara dared to peek at him through her lashes. Framed by the sparkling panes of glass, the somber black evening clothes gave him the look of a silhouette. But there was nothing insubstantial about the man. Taut muscles rippled beneath the velvet jacket lying across his shoulders. Cara's eyes fell to the trim waist and then as they slid down the length of his thighs, she blushed in confusion. Her heart hammered in her breast and she experienced a strange breathless quality as her eyes roamed over the figure of her husband.

Damn, the man, Cara cursed silently. Why did he affect her the way he did? She tried to muster up some anger to counteract the helpless confusion she felt. Aloud she said, "Is there something you wanted, your lordship?"

Wilton turned away from the darkened windows, his gaze going to the girl beside the fire. In silence he took in the too-big wool dress that was at least three years out of date. The voluminous headdress he dismissed with a sneer but the white face beneath the wimple was studied with care. Why have I come here? Julian asked himself in puzzlement. What was there about the girl that had drawn him to the schoolroom?

"I just wanted to be sure that you had been settled properly, Miss Farraday, " Julian improvised.

Cara's eyelids flickered in disbelief but there was no sign on her expressionless face that she thought his actions were unusual. "Mrs. Clayton has been all that is helpful. I had a chance to wander around this afternoon. Weathersfield is an impressive estate. The gardens are beautiful and my rooms are charming."

"And do you find the children charming, too?"

Cara took a deep breath, opening her mouth to speak but under the sardonic gaze of her husband she was unable to continue. For five seconds her mouth hung open then in exasperation she snapped it shut and hung her head in dismay.

"Come, come, Miss Farraday," Julian drawled. "Such reticence from an outspoken American. I would never have suspected you could behave so circumspectly."

"Why does Richard still have a maid instead of a manservant?"

The words burst forth, surprising Cara as much as they startled Julian. She had so many questions about the children and was not even aware that Richard's bodyservant was one of them.

"What?" Julian barked.

"The boy is nine, Lord Wilton. He's no longer a baby to have a young girl fussing about him."

"Has the hafling complained?"

"No, sir, but I have met Janey. She's a good country girl who chatters away and, I suspect, treats him like an idiot younger brother." Cara felt the hot flush rising to her cheeks under Wilton's probing eyes, and she faltered to an end. "I-I think he should have a man to do for him."

"Anything else in my household you would change?"

"N-no, your lordship," Cara muttered.

Eyes glued to the pattern of the rug, Cara missed the amusement that flashed across Julian's face as he made his way to the door. It was only hearing the soft click of the closing door that made her aware that she was alone again. Her cheeks blew out as she expelled the breath that she had been holding in expectation of a setdown. What a coward I am, Cara muttered in annoyance. Why didn't I ask him about the children? Why didn't I find out what is wrong with Belin. She castigated herself all the time she prepared for bed then crawled beneath the covers, only to lie awake late into the night.

In the morning Cara had breakfast with the children in the nursery. Although Belin was in a clean dress and her hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon, she was still far from clean. She fidgeted continually during the meal, snatching food with quick jerky movements. Whenever she caught Cara watching her, the child refused to eat, sitting rigid with her hands in her lap. Richard ate glumly, his face cast in an unappealing expression of discontent. Despite the leaden feeling in her heart Cara approached the day with a determined cheerfulness.

"Today we shall not have lessons," she announced with enthusiasm. "Since I am new here I have to learn my way around. I know that you both could show me all the important places. As you are the oldest, Richard, you may lead for today."

The sullen expression lifted from the boy's face and Cara wondered if part of Richard's problem was simply that no one paid him any attention. All boys liked to show off their knowledge and if there was no one to impress, it might indeed make him sulky and taciturn.

"If I can't lead, I won't go," Belin screamed.

"You may suit yourself, Belin," Cara sighed. "However if you do not go with us you will have to remain in your room until we return. Now that you have a governess again it is time you learned to follow some rules."

Sad brown eyes lifted and Cara flinched at the searing pain they reflected. She noted all the signs of impending rebellion as Belin's chin jutted mutinously forward. In a moment Cara knew she would be involved in a full-blown battle of wills she was far from certain she could win.

"I so wish you would come with us, Belin," Cara ventured in her most coaxing manner. "I forgot last night to tell you about the cat that we had on board ship. I thought if we found a good spot to rest I could tell you about her and, of course, the kittens. In fact you could pick out a different spot to eat the lunch that Mrs. Clayton has made for us."

Belin brightened at the idea and agreed to accompany them.

By the end of the morning they had covered a great deal of ground. Cara felt a little like Scheherazade, spinning endless tales whenever there was a sign of restlessness in either of the children. On the edge of the lake she sat and told them the promised story of the cat and the kittens. It was a tale full of near disasters she made up out of whole cloth. The stories kept the recalcitrant Belin at her side, eager for more. Even Richard left behind his usual bored expression hearing the exciting adventures in a new land. However it was the Indian accounts, complete with battles and narrow escapes that captured his total fascination.

"Can't we pretend we're Indians, Miss Farraday?" Belin pleaded.

"Of course, we can," Cara laughed, pleased that she had managed to stimulate their imagination.

"We'll need some feathers and some axes and some arrows," Richard said, intent on a realistic enactment of mayhem. "Come on, Belin. I know just where to look."

Cara watched as the children raced back and forth in the woods looking for anything that could be considered a possible weapon. With a final whoop of triumph, Richard raced to Cara's side, proudly displaying two rather woebegone feathers.

"Well done, Richard," Cara praised the flush-faced boy.