The American Bride (9 page)

Outside the double doors of the large salon Cara pressed each hand and nudged the children forward as the footmen threw open the doors. While all eyes were on Richard and Belin, Cara slid inconspicuously along the silken wall just inside the doorway.

The salon was oddshaped with a rounded bay jutting out toward the back gardens. It was lavishly furnished in velvets, satins and brocades, however, despite the heavy furnishings, the room possessed an airy quality due to a myriad of beveled windows which reflected the candlelight and picked up the greens and golds which predominated and refracted the color like tiny suns glowing on the perimeter. The high vaulted ceiling was ornamented with richly carved plaster oddments and populated by glittering chandeliers hanging over the bay area and a comfortable seating area.

Cara smiled, remembering her grandmother's comment that "nobody ever looks at servants." Aside from a stir of activity as the children entered, her own presence had gone unnoticed. It was as though she were invisible, watching the players on a stage.

Her heart swelled with pride as she watched Belin chattering gaily, the only sign of nervousness a slight fidgeting with her dress sash. Richard was having a more difficult time. He stood ramrod straight, answering questions thrown at him by his uncle, Edward Tallworth, the man who had been with Julian at the lake.

"The pain was excruciating, Letitia," a heavily rouged octogenarian shouted at her equally ancient companion. "It radiated all down my right leg. It was the outside of enough that I had to resort to a cane."

"Well, my dear, that's what comes of all those rich foods." Letitia patted her diamond necklace, adjusting it more comfortably beneath her double chin. "It's gout for certain."

"Nonsense!" the old woman snapped. "That's for old fogies."

"La, Harriet. It's not like we're in our first bloom of youth." Letitia jabbed her fan into her friend's ribcage earning herself an affronted stare. "In my mind I'm still twenty but when I look around I'm surprised to note all the young ones. Innocent lambs, the lot of them."

Cara smiled as both ladies raised lorgnettes to survey the assemblage. She felt slightly sinful, eavesdropping on the women's conversation. Her own eyes went to the whist players in the bay area. She noted the details of the ladies' silk and muslin dresses, sighing over the beautiful jewels sparkling at exposed bosoms and wrists. The men's clothes she barely glanced at, except for one or two of the more outrageous court dandies. Having satisfied herself as to the current fashions, her gaze wandered until it rested on Julian.

Trying to steady her rapid heartbeat as she looked at her husband, Cara had to admire the picture he made. He wore a dark blue superfine jacket with a darker hued brocade waistcoat, unadorned by anything except a single gold watch fob. His cravat, tied in what Richard had called a Waterfall, rippled down his immense chest. As he talked to the children, his head was turned full face toward Cara and her eyes touched the fine features and brown eyes half concealed by coal black lashes. His dark hair tumbled across his forehead where he periodically brushed it back in annoyance.

"I always said her father was a want-wit. Valencia's lucky that her mother is gone. Now there was a sharp one."

Cara's wandering attention was brought back to the older women's conversation. Valencia's name had been mentioned by Agnes and Janey and their comments had been in no way complimentary. It took several minutes for Cara to weave together the backstairs gossip to realize the woman under discussion was the Lady Valencia Greeley, assumed by all to be her husband's current mistress.

"....no better than she should be!" Harriet finished. "Can't believe her father hasn't twigged to the situation."

Letitia leaned forward, her hand bracing her ample bosom as though to keep her fluttering heart within the tightly laced bodice. Lowering her voice she spoke with relish. "I hear that their pockets are to let. But looking at Valencia one would never suspect. That pink dress is one of Madame Chapair's creations, not some pinch-penny seamstress as Valencia would have you believe."

Once again the lorgnettes were raised and Cara's eyes followed to the woman seated beside Julian on the sofa.

Lady Valencia Greeley was beautiful. She was small but her figure was quite breathtaking from her voluptuous bosom to her curvaceous hips. Soft little hands fluttered girlishly as she plied her fan. The dress in question was of the softest shade of pink tulle, fragile as a cobweb. On another woman it would have been insipid but Cara admitted Valencia wore the dress with a piquant flair. A band of ruffles foamed at the low neckline giving coy glimpses of the white flesh it was supposed to conceal. Her head was molded by waves of golden tresses swept up to the back of her head where they cascaded in spiraling curls intertwined with pink ribbons.

"....beauty won't last forever," continued the indefatigable Harriet. "She appears to have a dash of excess flesh under her chin. And just look at her arms! My dear, she'll be waddling in another five years," the older woman announced happily.

Through narrowed eyes Cara scrutinized Valencia, trying to be objective. She did not consider the woman a rival for Julian's affections. At first Cara had been disturbed by her husband's unfaithfulness, but had reminded herself that it was common enough for a married man to have a mistress. However being sensible in the abstract, Cara found, was far different from being objective now that she was facing the actual object of Julian's desires. After all he is my husband, she muttered, eyeing the young woman.

Initially Valencia appeared to be in the first bloom of youth. She had a heart shaped face with a deep widow's peak set above slanting green cat's eyes. Although the eyes were small, they were balanced by the wide sweep of brows above and the tiny pouting mouth below. A beauty patch nestled in the valley of a dimple in her cheek. Although her every appearance called out an innocence of unawakened passion there was a sleepy awareness in the sensuality of her eyes and mouth. As Cara watched, Valencia dropped her hand to caress Julian's leg. It was but an instant's movement and then hand and face were back to their pose of girlish innocence.

To her chagrin, angry emotion washed over Cara. Lowering her eyes to hide her fury, she felt her cheeks redden and looked up again, only to be skewered on her husband's sardonic brown gaze.

Julian had been aware of Cara's presence since she entered the room. There was something about the girl that mystified him. She carried herself with an air that bespoke both education and breeding. Young in years perhaps, but her face, plain at first glance, held maturity and character. He noted in amusement that Miss Farraday was an innocent. She had seen Valencia's caress and Julian was delighted by the look of outrage that passed across the little governess' face.

His eyes scanned the faces in the room stopping when he noticed Edward Tallworth's interest in the young woman. Miss Farraday was not Edward's normal type; he gravitated toward the fluttering beauties or aging and moneyed widows. Damn the man, Julian thought. Couldn't he leave my staff alone?

"That will be all, children," Julian interrupted, surprised at his own sudden burst of anger.

"But Uncle Julian...," Belin began in her childish lisp. Tears trembled at the corners of her eyes as she reached out for Richard's protective hand.

"Thank you, Uncle Julian," Richard commented as he made a leg to the rest of the company. "Come along, Belin."

Cara was proud of the young man who gathered Belin against his side and walked with concentrated dignity toward the door. She herself slid along the wall escaping the salon with a sigh of relief.

"Well done, my dears," Cara congratulated the children. "Your behavior was exemplary."

"Is 'zemplurry' good?" Belin asked, still shaken by their abrupt dismissal.

Cara leaned down and hugged the child. "Not just good, Belin, excellent."

Belin brightened but Richard cast both females a scowl of disgust, refusing to be placated. Cara herself was relieved to be away from Julian's eyes and the devastating effect they had on her nervous system.

Chapter Five

"What will we do this morning, Miss Farraday? Can we swim again? Would you like to visit the Dorsett's farm and see the new piglets?"

Cara listened in amusement to Belin's ebullient chatter. Even at the early breakfast hour it was difficult to stem the child's flow of enthusiastic suggestions. Once Belin had come to terms with her own private devils her appetite for life had redoubled.

"Mrs. Clayton has told me that you have a beautiful doll collection, Belin," Cara remarked at the end of the meal.

"Oh, yes. It's ever so fine. My father used to bring me a new one every time he came back from London. There's big ones and little ones. I must have....lots," she finished breathlessly.

"I would very much like to see the dolls but I suppose you want to have time to get them ready to be presented," Cara suggested.

"Yes, it's true." Belin bit her lip, torn between impressing Miss Farraday and showing her the dolls immediately. "Some of them haven't had their hair brushed in ever such a long time."

"I have an idea, Belin. Richard and I have something to do this morning and that would give you time to get everything ready. I'm sure that Agnes would be happy to help you. Then after lunch, I could come and be properly introduced."

Belin turned the idea over in her mind. As Cara had hoped, the child accepted the plan and was eager to begin. The little girl left, badgering Agnes with demands for soap, water and brushes. Cara, with an unenthusiastic Richard in tow, marched outside, heading for the stables.

Although the boy stiffened when aware of their destination he did not refuse to accompany her.

Entering the stableyard Cara found Glum directing two of the young boys in saddling a black Arabian stallion. Richard flinched as the stallion snorted and pawed the packed earth but the plucky lad held his ground. The horse was beautiful, big but sleekly muscled. A deep chest indicated he would have reserves of stamina as well as speed. Glum waited while the horse was saddled then tipped his cap to Cara.

"Morning, Miss Farraday. Richard. Come see what we've got for ye."

His worn boots beat a steady tattoo on the oak floors as he led the girl and the reluctant boy to the last box in the line of stalls. Looking in over the door, Cara smiled in satisfaction at the spindly-legged colt inside.

"Thank you, Glum. I think he'll do nicely."

Doffing his cap, the old man nodded, avoiding looking at the glowering boy beside the young governess. Richard had been on his way to being a fine horseman until the unfortunate accident with his parents. The headgroom had talked to Miss Farraday and hoped her plan would work.

"Ye'll find everything ye need, Miss," Glum threw over his shoulder as he stumped back to his duties.

Eyeing the tensed boy, Cara nervously wrung her hands. She approached Richard, standing in front of him in silence until he was forced to raise his eyes to her face.

"Richard, can you keep a secret?"

"Maybe."

"I'm not sure just how to explain," Cara admitted. "You see in America I used to ride a great deal. But when my father got sick I didn't ride for a long time. I was busy taking care of him."

"Did he die?" Richard asked bluntly, curious in spite of himself.

"Yes, he did. I felt awfully bad at the time. I suppose you remember how you felt when your own parents died?"

"I didn't feel anything," the boy snapped, hostility written all over his face.

"I know what you mean," Cara purposely misunderstood. "I was numb at first too, but then I felt terrible. So I let a little more time go by when I didn't ride." She paused hoping she would see some encouragement from Richard but his eyes were downcast, staring at the toe of his boot. "At any rate I waited so long that now I'm afraid to ride again."

Cara held her breath as Richard's head snapped back, eyes wide, but before she could continue, all emotion was wiped from his face and he stared at her with expressionless eyes. Cara's heart sank, wondering if the plan she had worked out would founder stillborn. Sighing in sheer frustration, she plunged ahead.

"I talked to Glum, as he seems to know pretty much all you need to know about horses, and he said if I got used to being around horses again then I probably wouldn't be afraid anymore."

It seemed that the tension building inside the boy was becoming unbearable. He was shifting from foot to foot as Cara talked and now he waved his hands as though to push away her flow of words.

"What's the secret?" Richard snapped rudely.

"This." Cara opened the door of the stall so that Richard could see inside.

Standing amid the straw was a wobbly foal that backed up into the corner, staring at them with enormous brown eyes. His coat was still the downy fuzz of a newborn although he had been weaned. He was reddish-brown with four white stockings and a white blaze just above his right eye. Richard, who had been stiff with fear when Cara opened the box, sagged against the door at the sight of the trembling animal.

"He doesn't look so very fierce," Cara crooned holding out a tentative hand to touch the velvety nose. "Come on, you little beauty. I won't hurt you."

Cara entered the box cautiously, clucking and crooning to the shaking colt. His coat was satiny under her caressing hands and she could feel the jump of nervous muscles. Ignoring Richard, Cara murmured to the colt and was delighted to feel him steady under her fingers.

"What's his name, Miss Farraday?" Richard stood in the doorway, a longing to touch the animal etched plainly on his face.

"Glum says he hasn't got one. He said if I could think of a good one, that's what they would call him."

"It ought to be a real smasher," Richard whispered. "I think he's going to be a very special horse."

"I do too," Cara agreed. "Now you see my secret. If you could come over with me to the stables in the morning, no one would think that I was neglecting my duties."

"I see," said Richard, eyes lighting with appreciation of the plan. Then as though he were still reluctant, "I guess I could do that."