Chapter Thirty-One
The space of a week found a very pleasant tea party in the gardens of Scarcliffe Hall, the like of which no-one in his right mind would have predicted at the start of the summer. The Duke and Duchess of Loxwell sat around the table with the Earl of Scarcliffe and his mother, the Marchioness of Lilistone, taking tea and eating cake and chatting away as cheerfully as old friends.
The Marchioness had come to stay at Scarcliffe Hall the moment she heard the news of her eldest son's engagement, with the intention of staying until the wedding was planned, the Marquess was healthy, and the new friendship between the Hartleys and the Balfours comfortably bolstered by a series of visits and happy outings.
It was a great relief to Robert that his father would soon be well enough to return to the Lilistone estate. Scarcliffe Hall was almost his once more, and, though it would never again be the bachelor paradise he had promised his friends, it would run once more under his own mastery.
The Duchess and the Marchioness, who had long been separated by their husbands' enmity, had found a great deal of common ground in retelling the histories of their youth, and only stopped their lively chatter to look around in satisfaction at the young people scattered about the garden.
Northmere had taken the change to a more sociable lifestyle in good grace, and was engaged in animated conversation with Jemima as they walked together across the lawn. Hart, on the other hand, was so comfortable around Robert's new family-to-be that he had no compunction about lounging around in the grass, letting it stain his shirt, and soaking up the sun with a cup of tea balanced on a rock beside him. His left arm was bound in a sling, but that was the only reminder of the bullet which had struck him below the collarbone.
"We were speaking this morning of the wedding," said the Duchess of Loxwell, leaning forward to catch Robert's attention. Robert smiled as best he could. It seemed to him that nobody spoke of anything but the wedding anymore. "I know your father had his heart set on London, but Cecily thought it would be so much nicer to have it in our parish church in Loxton."
"My husband will make no objections, if Cecily desires it," the Marchioness assured her, before Robert could speak. At his side, Cecily was busy with a quill and paper – much to her mother's chagrin, as they were not the traditional accompaniment to tea and cake.
"That means we really must make haste with the invitations," said Cecily. "The Duke and Duchess of Redhaven, for example, have such a great way to travel. And your sister, Robert – will she make it up from Larksley?"
"Not in her condition," said Hart abruptly. Robert gave him a surreptitious kick.
"She is having a difficult time at this stage in her pregnancy, I fear," he explained, with as much delicacy as possible. "And her husband, by all accounts, will not leave her side."
"How very fortunate for them, to be blessed with children so soon after their marriage!" sighed Cecily, her eyes glowing. "Lady Lilistone, you must be overjoyed!"
"I am equally excited for all my children," said the Marchioness happily. "To think, two of my darlings safely married off, to such wonderful people, in the course of a single year!" She gave her younger son a meaningful nod. "Now I have only Hart to worry about."
"I do not think you would want me to marry with quite such haste as my siblings, mother," said Hart lazily. Robert made a mental note to acquaint Cecily with the reality of his sister's situation as soon as possible. It was not right that he should keep family secrets from her, after all. But, as his sister's indiscretions were not a fit subject for the Duchess of Loxwell's ears, Robert endeavoured to steer the conversation away from Hart's ironic comments.
"Mother, was there not something you wished to say to Cecily?"
Cecily set aside her quill and paper at once and listened attentively.
"Oh, yes! Thank you for reminding me, Robert. Cecily, I wish to give you a tour of the house this afternoon. I know you will have seen much of it already, but there are several things you ought to know before you take up residence. The Marquess and I will not be here often, you see. We will leave you and Robert to begin your lives together in peace. Above all, I want you to feel that this is truly your home, and I will show you the rooms which you are to redecorate according to your own taste."
"Thank you, my lady!" said Cecily, surprised and delighted. "That is too kind!"
The Duke of Loxwell roused himself from the contemplation of his slice of cake. "Very kind, Lady Lilistone, kind indeed – but I am disappointed to hear that you and Lilistone do not intend to stay in the area."
"We will visit often, Your Grace," smiled the Marchioness. "Especially if you wish it."
"Oh, we do wish it," said the Duchess, squeezing her hand. "Make no mistake about that."
Northmere and Jemima had finished their circuit of the flower beds and had made their way back to the table. "You have left the Countess of Streatham off your list of invitations," remarked Jemima, reading through the list Cecily had set down.
"Oh, Isabella does not need an invitation – she is on her way to Loxwell Park as we speak! The visit has been arranged for weeks now. In fact, I have not even told her that I am engaged." Cecily beamed with anticipation. "I mean to tell her when she arrives, so that I can receive her congratulations in person. How surprised she will be!"
"You have invited the Countess of Streatham?" asked Hart, sitting up so abruptly that he knocked over his tea cup.
"She is one of my dearest friends," said Cecily. "Why, are you acquainted?"
"You could say that." Hart leapt up to his feet and stalked off to the other end of the garden without another word. Cecily glanced at Robert, perplexed.
"Have I said something wrong?"
"Not at all," said Robert, thoughtfully watching his brother kick at a flowering bush. "It's only one of Hart's queer moods. Now, show me that list. I hope you have left enough room for my own additions."
He had barely had time to peruse the first set of names when Peters, the butler, came hurrying out of the house.
"An urgent message, Lady Lilistone!" he said, leaning his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
"Gracious, Peters, have a seat," said the Marchioness. "Running does not suit you!"
"Thank you, my lady, but I am well enough standing." Peters took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "A boy has just arrived from Loxton. The Duke of Beaumont has had an accident while out riding."
"I was wondering where he had got to!" exclaimed Robert. "Is it serious?"
"I fear it must be, my lord. They have taken him straight to Doctor Hawkins."
"But why take him to the Doctor's house?" asked the Duchess of Loxwell. "Surely it would have been better to bring him here – or to Loxwell Park, if he was on our land?"
"The boy said he asked to be taken to the Doctor," said Peters. A strange look crossed his face, and he leaned towards Robert to murmur, "In point of fact, my lord, His Grace apparently asked to be taken to Miss Anna Hawkins."
"Anna?" asked Cecily. "But the Duke barely knows her! Why should he ask to be taken there?"
"I don't wish to speculate, my lady," said Peters primly.
Robert got to his feet. "I will go to him at once," he said. "I doubt that I can lend the Doctor any assistance, but I cannot simply sit here and do nothing."
"Yes, yes, you must go immediately!" said the Duke of Loxwell. "The poor man – I hope he is not badly hurt."
"Hart!" Robert called. His brother was still engrossed in a deep sulk at the end of the garden. "Hart! Come here and see to our guests."
"Don't worry about him," said Cecily, putting a hand on his arm. "I will see if I can coax him out of his…mood."
"Go, Robert!" the Marchioness commanded. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of our guests without you. Go and see what you can do for Beaumont."
Robert pressed her hand to his lips and hastened into the house to change into his riding gear. He did not know Miss Anna Hawkins well, but he had seen her often enough to wonder whether he ought to be more concerned for the Duke of Beaumont or the young and pretty redhead he had apparently taken a shine to.
As Robert rode out from Scarcliffe Hall, he could not help but reflect on the ironic upturning of all the plans he, Hart, Northmere and Beaumont had made for that summer. Sport, fishing, billiards, gaming – and strictly no women! Now Beaumont seemed to be chasing after a gentleman's daughter, Hart was facing the grim prospect of meeting the Countess of Streatham once more, and Robert himself…
Robert slowed his horse to a walk. Action suited him better than contemplation. He had not yet taken in the full depth of the material changes Cecily had wrought upon him.
He was soon to be a married man. His bachelor antics were all behind him. The most beautiful, stubborn, vivacious and impossible girl in England would be on his arm forever.
He had never been happier in his life.