Chapter Eleven
Tabitha was humming to herself while she sealed and directed letters for posting before breakfast. Her maid, Allison, was dressing Lily’s hair.
“You’re very happy this morning,” Lily remarked.
“It must be the sunshine of your presence, my dear.”
“Hmm.”
There was a searching and rather pleased look in her stepdaughter’s eyes that was new. “What are you concocting, Lily?”
“Me? Absolutely nothing. I danced with his grace last night.”
“I know. I saw you. You looked very handsome together.”
“He is a very interesting man, is he not? I believe I like him very much.”
Tabitha paused, her fingers closed around the little pile of letters. “Do you?”
“Oh yes. He is handsome of course, and though Carily is right—he does look as if he would blow over in a puff of wind—he wouldn’t, would he? And he has that kind of inner strength that so many louder men lack...”
“You guessed all this from one dance?” Tabitha managed. “Are you now considering obliging Cousin Ralph?”
“I don’t believe the duke would oblige Cousin Ralph. In any negotiations, I would wager my money on his grace.”
Tabitha straightened, regarding her stepdaughter almost blindly.
He had said he loved her. He had opened her heart, and she would be the first to understand his attraction for a young and impressionable girl.
He would always do the right thing. Would that really include sacrificing everything to this marriage if he thought Lily wanted it?
Abruptly, she found herself hugged fiercely. “Don’t look like that. It is not me he wants. But I’m so glad you like him.”
Tabitha blinked, realizing with astonishment that the girl had tricked her into betrayal. “You...you minx!”
Lily laughed and danced away again. “Come, let’s go down to breakfast—I’m starving.”
Tabitha, leaving Allison smiling secretively over the hair brushes and pins on the dressing table, followed Lily from the room.
Sir Peter was presiding over the breakfast parlour, which was not busy. Only a few guests, dressed for a riding expedition, were eating there, discussing pathways and resting places. Carily was not among them, Tabitha was pleased to see. She did not want the happiness of her day spoiled.
Everyone wished the newcomers good morning, and Sir Peter went back to sorting through the pile of letters that had been brought up from the village.
“There’s one here for Lady Lily,” he said, when they had sat down near him with their chosen platefuls from the sideboard.
Tabitha passed the letter from him to Lily. She recognized the handwriting.
“Cousin Ralph,” Lily said. She didn’t quite wrinkle her nose, but from her unenthusiastic tone she might as well have.
Tabitha was only surprised it had taken him this long, though for the first time it struck her as delightfully funny.
Ralph would be writing with some blatant excuse to bring Lily home—preferably without Tabitha—so that the girl would be at Sark Park to meet the duke.
Who was in fact here. That really would make Ralph furious when Lily told him, though Tabitha hoped they might put off leaving a while longer.
Lily broke the seal and unfolded the epistle. Another paper fell onto the table.
“It’s addressed to Lady Hawthorn,” Lily said in surprise.
Tabitha passed it back to Sir Peter while Lily read the brief contents of her own letter with a wry smile. She handed it to Tabitha. “Portia is unwell and is asking for me,” she said.
“I am very sorry to hear that,” Sir Peter said sincerely. “And to lose you from the party. Can you wait until tomorrow? If you set off early enough you should be able to make the journey in one day. Will you go with her, Lady Sark?”
“That does not appear to be Ralph’s plan,” Tabitha said slowly, having read Ralph’s stark commands. “In fact, he is coming here to fetch Lily.”
“Oh, clever,” Lily breathed. “Then you may more easily be left behind with perfect propriety. Only he doesn’t know—”
“Well, we shall discover more when he arrives,” Tabitha interrupted. “Though poor Louisa may find herself with another imposing guest. Perhaps he will put up at the village inn.”
“We wouldn’t hear of it,” Sir Peter said hospitably. “Ah, good morning, your grace.”
Tabitha looked up too quickly. Jack, once more in immaculate morning clothes, bowed to his host and to the room in general. Her heart was skittering like an impressionable schoolgirl’s. The memory of his devastating kisses was so vivid in her mind that her body heated.
Fortunately, a distraction was provided by the riding party setting off with the rest of the company’s good wishes, and in time, the duke came and sat on Sir Peter’s other side.
He had a modest plateful of smoked fish, egg, and a slice of toast. The servant poured him coffee and retreated to his post.
“What would you like to do today?” Sir Peter asked.
“Louisa thought a restful day might be in order since we have the ball tomorrow, but of course you are not tied to the house. I’m not sure I have any more riding horses available today, but there are many pleasant walks, and a carriage ride to the seaside is not impossible if it takes your fancy. ”
“I don’t know,” Lily said doubtfully. “Should we wait around the house in case Ralph arrives?”
Jack’s knife and fork stilled. He glanced up.
“His lordship is on his way to fetch Lily home,” Tabitha exclaimed. “Apparently the countess is ill and asking for her.”
Jack looked thoughtful.
“We don’t even know if it will be today,” Sir Peter said, “so I should do exactly as you wish.” He rose and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I shall take my wife’s letters to her. I’m sure she will be down shortly if you need anything.”
“What a bore he is,” Lily said. No one thought she meant Sir Peter.
“On the contrary,” Tabitha drawled. “It will be most entertaining to see how he suddenly decides Portia’s illness is of no consequence so that he might stay here and engineer your engagement to his grace.”
Lily laughed, but Jack’s attention was fixed elsewhere. He lifted the newspaper that Sir Peter had clearly cast aside in favour of the post.
“What?” Tabitha asked.
“Word is out,” Jack said. “There is another claimant to the earldom of Sark.” He lifted his gaze to Tabitha’s. “A Mr. Hunter Lisle. From Canada.”
***
TABITHA WAS ABLE TO cast off her unease about Ralph’s arrival with surprisingly little difficulty.
On Jack’s invitation, they decided to take a walk around the countryside and enjoy luncheon at the village inn.
Lieutenant Meade elected to join them, so in spite of everything, the day promised to be very pleasant.
Indeed, it was everything she could have hoped for and more.
The weather was fine, with a light breeze to cool the warm sunshine, and the countryside very pretty.
They strolled through wooded paths and along the bank of the nearby river, sometimes talking easily in a group, at others breaking into pairs.
Although Lieutenant Meade’s healing injury did not appear to trouble him, he provided the excuse for a slow pace and frequent halts.
It was all very relaxed and friendly, with, for Tabitha, the occasional thrill of Jack’s hand grasping hers to help her over rough ground, or simply the sound of his voice, his very presence.
The sense of humour that she had glimpsed before was more prominent today, subtle and yet joyful.
He seemed wonderfully carefree, and to Tabitha, that was exhilarating.
Although they walked some distance, the duke showed no more signs of tiring than Nat Meade.
She gathered that a month ago, he would not have risked it, but his weeks in the saddle had clearly strengthened both his body and his confidence.
She began to suspect that for years now, his health had actually been better than his family had dared to hope.
Smothering him in care had almost broken him rather than saved him.
If he had not been so good natured, she thought, so reluctant to hurt, he would have thrown off all those yokes long since.
But he had found his way, without temper or acrimony, and she was proud of him.
Luncheon at the village inn was hearty and tasty, and the day seemed full of laughter when they eventually walked back to Hawthorn Court. With her hand in Jack’s arm, Tabitha could not remember a happier day.
Until they came in sight of the house and Lily spoke with an air of resigned regret. “There is a carriage at the front. Ralph must be here to end our fun.”
“Not at all,” Tabitha said. “Merely a different kind of fun. It changes nothing, you know.”
“Should we change before we greet him?” Lily asked mournfully. “He’ll only scold about the mud on our skirts.”
“Let him. I rather think he will have more on his mind.”
The carriage had vanished, presumably around to the stables, by the time they reached the house.
But Lily’s plans to change her muddy walking garments were foiled when their host stuck his head out of the library.
He was an easy-going kind of man and Tabitha was annoyed to see him looking positively harassed.
“Ah, there you are!” he said. “Do come in and greet our visitor.”
“If he has been complaining about our absence to poor Sir Peter...” Tabitha muttered, metaphorically rolling up her sleeves.
“He won’t for long,” Lily said mischievously, swapping Nat Meade’s arm for Jack’s.
“You are a minx,” Jack murmured.
“So Tabbie tells me.”
Tabitha sailed first into the library. “I’m so sorry, Sir Peter, we—” She broke off, startled to be confronted not by Cousin Ralph, but by a complete stranger.
He looked her up and down expressionlessly and made the slightest, haughtiest bow.
Behind her, Jack said blankly, “Uncle Hazlett.”
At that, the rest of the world ceased to exist for the visitor. Lord Hazlett strode forward, grasping Jack hard by the shoulders. “My dear boy!” He peered anxiously into his face. “Are you well? No! You are running a fever!”