Chapter 10

Annabelle was sitting at her grandfather’s right hand at breakfast the next morning, Rosamund at his left.

“And what plans do you ladies have for today?” he asked. “All you young people made life very easy yesterday by entertaining yourselves.”

“Lord Wetherby has asked me to go riding with him,” Annabelle said.

The marquess looked toward the window. “It’s cloudy and blowing,” he said. “Not nearly as pleasant a day as yesterday. But fine for riding.”

“Will you come as chaperon, Aunt Rosa?” Annabelle asked.

Rosamund looked up at her in surprise and dismay. And she glanced involuntarily down the table at Lord Wetherby, who had also heard Annabelle’s request. She would do anything rather than have to spend another day with the two of them, Rosamund thought. She could not live through another day like the day before.

“Are you going to the abbey?” Christobel asked the earl eagerly.

“The abbey?” He looked at her inquiringly.

“Winwood Abbey,” she said. “It is just a few miles away and a very picturesque spot. I’ll come too, if I may. And Ferdie. Won’t you, Ferdie?”

Rosamund breathed a little more easily.

“I will do myself the honor of escorting Lady Hunter,” the Reverend Tobias Strangelove said. “Winwood Abbey is an admirable destination. I commend you on having thought of it, Christobel. It will be my pleasure to describe the ruins to you when we arrive, my lord.” He inclined his head across the table to the earl.

“Splendid, splendid,” the marquess said, rubbing his hands together. “I shall have a talk with the other young people when they decide to get up from their beds.”

At least there was one consolation, Rosamund thought when she left the table a few minutes later in order to return to her room to change into riding clothes, at least there would be a crowd of them. For a moment it had seemed that there might be only her, Annabelle, and Justin.

When she reached her room, she bent to smell the daffodils, arranged in a large vase on the table beside her bed. She closed her eyes briefly. But, no, she would not think of it. She would not.

She glanced guiltily to the pile of four heavy books on the window ledge. She had carried them up from the library the evening before. One of the daffodils was being pressed between them.

Lord March was standing on the steps when Rosamund went outside, on her way to the stables. He smiled at her.

“A blustery day,” he said, hunching his shoulders inside his greatcoat.

“You are not coming riding?” she asked.

“I have promised to escort Lana and Claudette into the village to do some visiting and shopping,” he said. “I was pleased that you agreed to ride with Tobias, Rosa.”

She grimaced. “I did not have much choice,” she said.

“He definitely has an eye for you,” he said. “You would do well to encourage him.”

“Dennis,” she said, “let’s not start this.”

“I know he is rather pompous in manner,” he said. “But he could offer you a secure future, Rosa.”

“I refuse to quarrel with you this morning,” she said. “I am going riding. Everyone else must be in the stables already.”

“Just be careful of Joshua,” he said.

Rosamund had turned away, pulling on her gloves as she did so. But she turned back, a half-smile on her face. “All right,” she said, “I am taking the bait. Why must I be careful of Josh?”

“He has a shocking reputation,” he said. “He might think that because you are a widow, Rosa, you are easy.” 

“Might he?” she said. “And you are afraid that perhaps I am?”

“Not for a moment,” he said. “You don’t have to flare up at the merest provocation, Rosa. I merely have your best interests at heart. I don’t want to see you hurt. Men sometimes forget that widows can still be hurt.”

“Do they?” she said, smoothing the gloves over her hands. 

“He would not be allowed to marry you, you know,” he said. “He is the heir to all this.”

Rosamund smiled at him. “And I am merely your sister,” she said, “and widow of a baronet who was not particularly wealthy. Well, Dennis, you have certainly succeeded in cutting me down to size.”

“You know that was not my intention,” he said. “Why must you always make me seem the villain, Rosa? You know I want nothing more than your happiness.”

Her mouth was opened to make a stinging retort when the door opened behind him and the Earl of Wetherby stepped outside.

“Ah,” he said, seeing Rosamund, “I thought I was late.” 

“You are,” she said. “And so am I. I shall see you later, Dennis.”

“Quarreling again?” the earl asked as the two of them strode toward the stables. “You looked as if you were about to swallow his head whole. I may just have saved his life. ” 

“He will persist in treating me like a child who knows nothing of the world or the motives of men,” she said. 

“Perhaps,” he said, “he loves you.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” she said, “and would like to organize my life according to his own notions of happiness.”

“I’m afraid it is a failing of relatives,” he said. “Perhaps you should consider yourself fortunate to have only one brother, I have a mother and two sisters—a formidable army, I do assure you.”

She laughed. “Have they been pressing this marriage on you?” she asked.

“With increasing intensity as my thirtieth birthday has loomed,” he said. “They already have the beginnings of my family planned, too. It is to be two sons first—one to be my heir and one to be the insurance—and a daughter third just so that some fortunate gentleman will have the privilege of marrying into my noble family at some time in the future. After that I believe I am to be allowed to please myself.”

Rosamund laughed.

“I am not to give my family a collective anxiety attack as my father did, you see,” he said. “Two daughters two years apart, and one son all of seven years later.”

They had reached the stables to find that indeed they were the last to arrive. Lord Beresford and Robin Strangelove had joined the party, as well as Eva and Pamela Newton.

Had he talked deliberately to make sure that there were no awkward silences? Rosamund wondered. She was thankful that he had. He would not be able to marry to please himself, Dennis had said, talking about Josh. But the same would apply to Justin, too. Perhaps it was as well that he was already betrothed so that she would not be tempted to hope that he would marry her. Men tended to think that widows were easy, Dennis had said. They tended to forget that widows could be hurt.

Had Justin thought so? Had he made love to her only because he had expected that she would be willing? Had he made love to her with no regard to her feelings?

Stupid thoughts. She smiled more dazzlingly than she had intended at the Reverend Strangelove, who had approached to help her into the saddle, and set her foot in his cupped hands. She had been willing. And what did her feelings have to do with anything? He had told her quite openly even before they had adjourned to her bedchamber that he was about to be betrothed, that he did not wish to give her any wrong impression. And she had replied that all she wanted was a very brief affair.

This was no time to be feeling aggrieved. She had no grievance.

“Might I be permitted to say, Lady Hunter,” the Reverend Strangelove said, drawing his horse close to hers, “that you look quite dazzling in that riding habit?”

“You may,” she said gaily, touching him on the arm with her riding crop, “provided you call me Rosamund, Toby. The other sounds ridiculously formal.”

“Rosamund,” he said, bowing from his saddle. “I shall take this favor as a mark of personal regard. It is my sincerest wish, as I believe your brother may have prepared you to hear, that more than one happy announcement will be made during these two delightful weeks of my uncle’s birthday celebrations.”

“And it is my sincerest wish,” she said lightly, smiling at him, “to take this horse to a gallop before we reach Winwood Abbey.” She nudged her horse into motion.

He had asked Annabelle to go riding with him, Lord Wetherby was thinking rather ruefully, so that he might have some time alone with her, some time to get to know her better. He had not expected that on her grandfather’s land and within a week of their betrothal they would have to worry about chaperones.

As it had turned out, they had eight chaperones. He could not suppress a smile of some amusement, despite his chagrin. House parties were designed to bring people together, he supposed.

He did succeed in keeping Annabelle and himself at the head of the group and in conversing with her the whole way to the abbey. She was neither silent nor morose, he discovered. It was really quite easy to talk with her—except that at the end of the more than half an hour it took them to reach Winwood Abbey, he felt they knew each other no better than when they had started. Their conversation had been on quite impersonal matters.

The abbey was in ruins, though it was still possible to guess at its former splendor. Certainly it was situated in very picturesque surroundings, in a valley with a river flowing by and hills rising on either side.

“Grandmama and Grandpapa always organized picnics here in the summer,” Annabelle said.

But their conversation was interrupted. The Reverend Tobias Strangelove was as good as his word and approached to give the earl a history of the abbey.

“It was sacked during the time of the dissolution of the monasteries,” he explained. “A great blot on the history of our religion and civilization, my lord, one for which we must rightly feel deep shame and remorse, though it was our ancestors, of course, who were directly responsible. Ah, Joshua has a good idea, I see. Shall we dismount, too?”

Lord Wetherby resigned himself to the inevitable as he swung down from his saddle and lilted Annabelle down from hers. From one trial, though, he was to be released, he found almost immediately: Josh had come up behind Rosamund and set his hands at her waist.

“Toby is going to give Justin a history lesson?” he asked, winking at the latter. “Come exploring with me, then, Rosamund. I have been riding with Christobel and discover that I have heard quite enough giggles and shrieks to last me for one day.”

“Exploring as in climbing walls and balancing along the tops of them?” Rosamund asked. “I beg to be excused, Josh. I will stroll sedately with you, though, if you wish.”

“I wish,” he said, grinning. “Come too, Annabelle?”

“Thank you,” she said, “but I will stay with his lordship and Tobias.”

More than once Lord Wetherby had asked her to call him by his given name. She had not yet done so. She took his arm now and listened attentively to the monologue that the Reverend Strangelove launched into. The earl covered her hand with his own and patted her fingers.

Lord Wetherby wondered over the following half-hour what it would be like to sit through one of Strangelove’s sermons. It was not an experience he craved. At least here there were other things to look at: Robin Strangelove sitting on a low wall, flanked by Pamela and Christobel; Josh clambering up on a higher wall, grinning down at Rosamund, and then stretching down a hand to draw her up after; Lord Carver standing in a stone doorway, gazing up at its Gothic arch and saying something to Eva that threw them both into fits of laughter; Josh limping along the top of the wall until he swayed and had to leap for the ground; and Rosamund, arms out to the sides, walking safely right along it and then laughing down at Josh.

“Yes, quite magnificent, indeed,” he said to the Reverend Strangelove, not quite sure what he was appreciating.

Robin and the girls were standing at the head of what had been the nave of the church, looking along the line of broken pillars toward the grassy knoll where the altar had stood. Carver and Eva were strolling along to join them. Josh and Rosamund had disappeared behind the high wall into a copse of trees.

Annabelle drew her arm from the earl’s and wandered off alone.

“Indeed, yes,” he said. “Quite astounding.”

“Of course,” the Reverend Strangelove said, “there are not many young people today, my lord, who have your commendable interest in antiquity.” He glanced at the main group—the girls were all sitting on different pillars while Lord Carver stood on another and Robin was stooping down on his haunches, talking to Christobel. “But then they have the high spirits of youth, and who are we to condemn?” He smiled indulgently at his relatives.

“I certainly would not do so,” Lord Wetherby said.

Josh and Rosamund still had not come back into sight. Annabelle had disappeared too.

There was something quite fascinating about the altar of the old church, it seemed, something that the Reverend Strangelove had just that moment recalled and must confide to his lordship. His lordship meekly followed him to the grassy knoll. There Eva was unwise enough to approach and show interest in what was being said.

Lord Wetherby strolled along the nave. Where were they? Those trees were conveniently dense and secluded. He had probably taken her there deliberately. He fancied her, he had admitted quite openly just two evenings before. And they clearly got along together famously. They were probably out there somewhere, kissing and fondling.

And it was none of his business whatsoever, he reminded himself, unclenching his fists behind his back and strolling on. What he should do—and what he would do, in fact— was find Annabelle and occupy himself kissing and fondling her. It was about time he moved their relationship at least one step forward into something more personal than they had yet shared.

He stepped through the rubble of what had been a doorway onto the grass beyond and peered into the trees. There was neither sight nor sound of them. He strolled a little way into the trees.

“Josh,” Rosamund had said, laughing. “You cannot climb up there. You are a grown man now.”

“What you really mean,” he said, grinning at her, “is that I am a man with a limp now and will fall off.”

“And so you will too,” she said, “and I will laugh at you.”

“No, you won’t,” he said. “You will shriek and rush to tend my broken head.”

And of course he had climbed up onto the wall that they and Valerie had climbed on as youngsters, and he had taunted her until she had climbed up there with him. And of course he had fallen off and she had grinned down at him and walked the whole length of the wall herself before jumping down.

They were just like a couple of children and should be ashamed of themselves, she told him. Heavens, she was a respectable widow of six-and-twenty.

“Oh, not quite like children, Rosamund,” he said, taking her by the hand and stepping over a pile of rubble where the wall had completely crumbled away to stroll with her along the outer side of the wall, where they were suddenly sheltered from both the wind and the sunlight by the trees.

“I know,” she said, trying to withdraw her hand from his and failing. “This is where you start flirting with me, isn’t it, Josh, and trying to steal a kiss?”

“It would not be theft if you gave it willingly,” he said. 

“I won’t.”

He turned toward her and let go of her hand. He set his own against the wall over her shoulder. “Won’t you?” he said. ‘Why not?”

“Because we are a couple of children when we are together, you and I,” she said. “I would be mortally embarrassed if you kissed me. I would not know where to look.”

“You are supposed to close your eyes,” he said.

“No, Josh,” she said. “I mean it.”

He smiled at her. “Damn,” he said. “Who else is there here to flirt with if not with you, Rosamund?”

“Try not flirting with anyone for two weeks,” she said. “It will doubtless be good for your soul, Josh.”

“You aren’t sighing with love over Toby by any chance, are you?” he said. “He’ll probably deliver a sermon every night before jumping into bed with you. And imagine all the little Tobys learning their lessons at his knee in years to come.”

She laughed. “Don’t,” she said. “He is not a figure of fun, Josh. He is a very respectable citizen.”

“Picture yourself in a front pew knowing that you have to remain awake and look interested through his Sunday sermons,” he said. “Picture yourself having to keep all the little Tobys and their sisters from fidgeting.”

“You are quite horrid and heartless,” she said. “I am sorry to destroy your mental image, Josh, but I have no intention of marrying him, you know.”

“Good,” he said. “Let me kiss you, then. You may be surprised at how good I am at it.”

“I don’t doubt that you are an authority on the subject,” she said. “Here comes Annabelle.”

She was greatly relieved as he removed his hand and turned to smile at Annabelle. She liked him far too well to become involved in a real flirtation with him. She knew she could never have serious feelings for him, and she very much doubted that he could have any for her. There was not that spark that there was with . . .

It did not matter.

“All your aunt can do when I try to describe the bliss of her future life with Toby and all their offspring is laugh with a dreadful tone of levity,” he said to the girl. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into her, Annabelle.”

“Oh, Aunt Rosa,” Annabelle said, looking at her in dismay, “you are not going to marry Tobias, are you?” 

Lord Beresford chuckled. “Let’s go and have a look at the hermit’s cave down by the river,” he said. “I haven’t seen it for years.” He extended an arm to each of them. Annabelle took one of his arms.

“I am going to walk among the trees for a few minutes,” Rosamund said. “You two go along.”

“She is afraid I will pitch her into the river,” he said to Annabelle.

Annabelle looked reproachfully back at Rosamund as she was led away.

Rosamund strolled among the trees, enjoying the brief period of solitude. She had not realized quite how tranquil and uneventful her life with her husband had been until the last few days. The activity she welcomed—she had always had a great deal of energy and a strong sense of adventure and fun. But the human entanglements were bewildering.

There was Toby hinting in his usual pompous, roundabout manner that he was about to make her an offer. She could not think why, since he had not seen her for ten years and must remember her as a spirited, mischievous girl who was most unsuitable for a parson’s wife. And there was Josh inciting her to mischief just as if they really were still children. And trying to flirt with her. She had been flirting with him in the past two days, of course, but she had sensed that he was about to take the flirtation one step farther. And she had hesitated.

And then, of course, there was Justin. No, there was not Justin. She was just going to have to accustom herself to thinking of him as Annabelle’s. Soon enough he would be. If she were wise, she would throw all her energies into a flirtation with Josh. He was handsome and attractive and experienced. She liked him a great deal.

She became aware of movement among the trees suddenly and flattened herself against a trunk. Not that there was reason to hide from anyone, she thought, closing her eyes and feeling her heart beating up into her throat. She did not even know who it was. But, yes, she did know. Of course she knew.

“Rosamund?” he said just when there had been a moment of silence and she hoped he had gone away. “Are you hiding?”

“Hiding?” she said. “Of course not. I am enjoying the shelter from the wind. Are you looking for Annabelle?”

“I was,” he said.

“She has gone around to the river with Josh,” she said, “to look for the hermit’s cave. Actually I think it is a fox’s den, but we always liked to think it was a hermit’s cave.”

He had come to stand in front of her. For some reason that she had not even begun to fathom, she remained pressed against the tree, her hands clasping it on either side of her body.

He nodded. “Perhaps we should go around there, too,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Or are you afraid that the tree will fall down if you don’t stand there holding it up?” His eyes were smiling at her in that way she had noticed before.

“Perhaps it will, too,” she said. “You go and find them, Justin. I’ll stay here.”

He was looking very directly at her with those eyes. His hands were clasped behind his back.

“It’s not as easy to be sensible as it seemed two evenings ago, is it?” he said.

“No.” She sounded, she thought, as if she had just run a mile without stopping.

“I should have left you at the roadside,” he said.

“I should have locked myself into that bedchamber,” she said.

“I should have read aloud from my book of sermons until I put us both to sleep.”

“I should have agreed meekly with Dennis’ eagerness to match me with Toby.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“I should have asserted myself, then,” she said, “and said no and refused to say another word. I should not have set foot outside that carriage.”

“I should not have left London,” he said, “once I realized that I would have to travel alone.”

“I might have frozen to a hedgerow if you had not,” she said. “Dennis had lost a wheel.”

“And you were trudging away in the opposite direction,” he said, grinning suddenly. “You could well be a candidate for Bedlam one of these days, Rosamund.”

“And you were loaded down with a trunk full of clothes for a mistress who was in London with a chill,” she said. “Perhaps we will meet in Bedlam.”

Only his eyes still smiled. “I wish we could,” he said so softly that she had to read his lips.

“Go away, Justin,” she said. “Please go away. Go and find Annabelle and Josh.”

“Would it be different, I wonder,” he said, “if we had had longer? A week perhaps? Two?”

“Two, yes,” she said. “We would have used up all the snow making snowmen and had nothing else to do outdoors. We would have read all nine books from cover to cover. And I would have beaten you so many times at billiards that you would have had no self-confidence left.”

“There would have still been cards to beat you at,” he said.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps. Yes, two weeks would surely have done it, Justin. We would have been mortally tired of each other.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Go away,” she said. “Please go away.”

But he lowered his head, his hands still behind his back, and found her mouth with his own. He slid his tongue inside and touched hers.

“I wish we had had those two weeks,” he said, withdrawing only a couple of inches from her mouth. “I wish we were mortally tired of each other, Rosamund. I wish it more than I wish anything else in life.”

She heard herself swallow.

“I’m going,” he said. “But not to find Annabelle. The others must be ready to start back. It’s a brisk day outside the shelter of the trees. You had better come with me.” 

“Justin,” she said, “I wish I were the other side of the globe from you.”

“I know,” he said. “But you aren’t. Come on. I won’t offer you my arm or my hand. Will that help?”

“No,” she said.

“Come with me anyway,” he said. “What were you doing teetering along the top of a high wall earlier just like a twelve-year-old hoyden?”

“Taking a dare from Josh,” she said. “And enjoying my triumph when he fell off and I did not. It was a dreadfully undignified thing to do, wasn’t it?”

“Dreadfully,” he said. “I was careful to keep the Reverend Strangelove’s back to you all the time you were doing it.”

They both laughed.

“And wishing I were up there with you,” he said, “to show you that it could be done on one foot.”

“Oh, nonsense,” she said scornfully. “The surface is uneven. You would have fallen off and made a prize idiot of yourself.”

He chuckled and she joined in his laughter again.