Chapter 8 #2
“You remember him?”
Louisa had been a young maid at Bluebelle Lodge before Blythe met Archie. Perhaps she’d seen Graeme when he called there, and later, at Blythe’s wedding.
“Of course. He’s the one who raised the alarm on your, er, indiscretion, and caused all the fuss.”
Shame rose in her. Despite the years that had passed, she still remembered the night Graeme had stumbled upon her and Archie in the dark garden.
That was a long time ago.
“He is honorable,” Blythe said, “I think.” Her instincts told her that.
Could she trust that to be true? Or—she glanced at him again as he poked his muscled arms into his sleeves—was this sudden instinct to trust merely the result of the lust she was feeling?
“That is, we shall see, but he has been decent, so far.”
“Well, he’s grown up quite nicely,” Louisa said thoughtfully and then she laughed. “You mustn’t tell Samuel I’m gawking at other men.”
Graeme strode to meet them, tucking in his shirt tail, the shirt opening flapping as he walked. Mud coated his boots and the bottom of his trousers and smeared his cheek. The elder Stockwell hurried over with him.
Blythe made introductions and set about pouring drinks.
“We must speak with you, Blythe,” Graeme said, accepting one of the tin cups and draining it.
“I’ll have the other men break and eat,” Mr. Stockwell said. “And then I’ll rejoin you. If you wish, my lord.”
“I do wish,” Graeme said. “And bring Jarrow along as well.”
“Thank you,” Graeme said, turning back to the women. “It was kind of you to bring food and drink out instead of sending a servant.”
“And it’s kind of you to wield a shovel today.”
“Kind?” His smile was rueful. “Yes, well, in my first morning at Risley Manor I’ve met the magistrate, my steward and yours, and had my first experience of farming. Also, my first glimpse of what looks to be trouble.”
“Trouble?”
He nodded. “And I suppose I should apologize for my undress.”
That rush of heat swept through Blythe again.
He looked… bronzed was the word that came to mind.
His hair was lighter, his skin, already tanned from so many months at sea, glowed.
His eyes sparkled from the exercise, and the bit of exposed skin revealed a strong neck corded with muscles.
Amazingly, he still smelled of starch and shaving cologne.
He looked supremely masculine.
Feelings rumbled in her, feelings she hadn’t experienced since her very brief courtship. Feelings driven out by her loathsome husband and his friends.
“Are you quite all right, Blythe?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “That is, I mean, what has happened here?”
“The men here believe this is no accident.”
“I’ve received news of a few problems at Bluebelle Lodge,” she said. “Mr. Stockwell didn’t think I should concern myself much about them. Not with the other troubles on my plate.”
The Stockwells and Jarrow joined them. The berm they’d labored to build in late winter had been damaged. Intentionally, it appeared.
Her hands curled into fists. That could only be Diddenton’s doing. Oh, he wouldn’t have dirtied his own hands directly, but he’d have ordered the damage to be done, all with the intent of driving out the occupants of Bluebelle Lodge.
The presence of the magistrate caused her to temper her speech. “Would the marquess stoop so low?” she asked.
Stockwell glanced at Jarrow, frowning. He shared her concerns, but he wouldn’t speak openly either, not to accuse such a high-ranking peer.
Blythe had spoken carefully, but Graeme saw the anger in her face.
“Given his interest in the property, we have to consider the possibility,” he said.
Blythe nodded. “That brook is flowing from Diddenton land.”
Graeme looked toward the higher fallow ground.
“That’s Wickworth Hall land. His main estate is miles away,” Samuel Stockwell said. “His steward comes by at times. I’ve chased his surveyors off the property more than once.”
Graeme rubbed at the mud on his cheek. “Will anyone from Diddenton’s estate be attending tonight’s assembly?”
“Though it’s one of the largest gatherings in the area, the family has never appeared,” Jarrow said. “We’d best finish up here. What do you think, Stockwell, another hour’s worth of work?”
“My lord, Mr. Jarrow,” the elder Stockwell said, “we thank you for your help. Joseph can take your place.”
“No, I’ll stay and see this through,” Graeme said. “I have much to learn. Joseph and Rupert can escort Lady Chilcombe to Risley Manor.”
“Lady Hermione is at Bluebelle Lodge,” Blythe said. “We came in the gig and can find our own way back to Risley Manor.”
“Lady Hermione cannot come for help, should one of the marquess’s surveyors appear on the lane.”
Defiance flashed in her eyes, the way it had when he stopped her from leaving Chilcombe House.
He led Blythe away from the others. “Please, my dear. We must be cautious as we determine what’s afoot.”
She studied him for a long moment and finally said, “And how do we do that?”
“I’ve hired an investigator to look into Diddenton’s claim.
I plan to write and have him begin searching for the nurse Jarrow told me about.
And there’s an assembly tonight at the White Horse Inn.
I plan to attend. Perhaps someone knows something about what happened here today.
And if we learn nothing tonight, it may be I can make the acquaintance of neighbors who’ll be willing to talk to me privately later.
The worst that can happen is that they’ll shun me, and I expect they’ll be too curious to do that.
Will you and Lady Hermione accompany me? ”
She’d stiffened as he spoke, and he saw it again—that look of fear, quickly masked.
The urge to take her in his arms and comfort her was overpowering but he wouldn’t touch her. For one thing he was too muddy, for the other… there were too many people around. He wouldn’t give the gossips fodder.
“You’ve gone pale but you must not be afraid. You faced the ton by yourself, Blythe, can you not face your neighbors? You’ll have two friends by your side.”
She lifted her chin and, lips trembling, nodded.
He went back to his work, watching her gather the baskets, her housekeeper and her two escorts, her face grim.
What did she know of the nastiness of Mrs. Jarrow and her cronies? Had they cut her before? What the hell had Archie put her through?
Because he could no longer believe the stories of Blythe’s perfidy were true. She was most certainly innocent.
If the better families attending tonight’s assembly thought to cut either Blythe or Lady Hermione in Graeme’s presence, they would be in for a surprise.