Chapter 10
In the morning, as Flossie drew the curtains on a luminous day, Marguerite drained her cup of chocolate. She jumped out of bed and said, ‘I am going for a drive this morning. I will need my blue wool dress, oh, and a shawl.’
‘And the straw bonnet with the blue ribbons, my lady?’
‘Yes, Flossie, and my yellow half-boots. And gloves. My riding gloves, I case I am allowed to drive.’
‘Is it the duke taking you out, my lady? Or the handsome young gentleman?’
Marguerite laughed. ‘Have you been spying on me, Flossie? It is the duke.’
‘Oh, perhaps you will marry him, then. You will be a duchess, fancy that!’
‘I don’t think so. He is a difficult man, and I am in no hurry to be married.’
Flossie tutted, wondering at the goings-on of the aristocracy, and finished doing her mistress’s hair.
Marguerite took her reticule, her shawl, and her bonnet in her hand and ran down the stairs.
Argyle was not at breakfast, and she sat with her aunt, inquiring about her state of health.
‘I have not seen much of you, Aunt. Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes, my dear, prodigiously. The card games are always interesting here, and the stakes quite high. I hope you girls are behaving yourselves—I am responsible for you, after all. I would not like to cause your dear Mama any worry.’
‘We are both being paragons of propriety, I swear. Maman always trusts me, you know.’ Marguerite reflected that, as a chaperone, her aunt was not very effective.
Alice had been flirting outrageously with at least two young men since their arrival—but, since she herself hated interference from anyone except her parents, this suited her well.
She helped herself to breakfast and, when she was finished, Felix approached her, proposing a ride.
She said, ‘Thank you, sir, but the duke is taking me for a drive. I accepted last night.’ She saw her aunt open her eyes at this, but she said nothing.
Crampton also seemed a little taken aback, but he only said, ‘I am sorry to hear it. But where is he? I have not seen him this morning.’
The butler, appearing at her shoulder, coughed and said, ‘My lady, His Grace has sent me to tell you he is waiting for you outside.’
Marguerite gave Felix an apologetic smile and turned away before her aunt could decide what her position was on this matter and make her opinion known.
She put on her bonnet and shawl and went out to find a curricle waiting, with a groom at the heads of a pair of beautiful matched bays.
Argyle held the reins, wearing a driving coat of white drab, with but a modest number of capes.
He leaned over, holding out his hand. ‘Good morning, Lady Marguerite. Come.’
Marguerite grasped his hand, and he pulled her up.
He said to the groom, ‘Let them go,’ and the horses set off at a smart trot.
They went through the formal gardens fronting the house and down the long drive without speaking and then took a road winding through woods.
There were wildflowers in the undergrowth, and the light piercing through the branches had a green tinge.
Marguerite said, ‘It is beautiful countryside, sir. I must admit you were right—it is good to be out.’
‘And how do you like my bays, ma’am?’
‘They’re lovely.’ She hesitated, then asked, ‘You said perhaps I could drive?’
He looked at her gloves. ‘I see you have come prepared. Do you feel up to it, now that you have seen them? They are quite fresh still. Perhaps in a few minutes.’
She was ready to bristle at his doubting of her driving skills, but the horses were indeed fresh, and she did not know them—it would have been foolish to risk an accident with someone else’s expensive bloodstock.
So she said nothing and gazed at the countryside.
They sat close to each other on the narrow curricle seat, and she was very conscious of his large, masculine body, his long, booted legs and his gloved hands on the reins.
She was uneasy, but she would not have chosen to be anywhere else at this moment.
After a few miles they came out of the woods onto a road stretching through fields. The horizon was large with scudding clouds across the sky. Argyle pulled the horses to a walk and gave her the reins and the whip. He only said, ‘Here you are, ma’am.’
She thanked him with a small smile. She saw at once the horses were trained to perfection: they had beautiful mouths and responded to her every touch on the reins.
Her confidence rose—soon she was driving them along at a fair clip.
She even managed to overtake a lumbering farm cart without slowing down too much; she was fully concentrated and forgot about everything else.
Argyle leaned back a little and sat watching her profile, saying nothing.
When she at last glanced at him, she saw he had a faint smile on his face.
She asked, ‘Have I passed the test?’
‘With flying colours. I confess I was a little anxious at first, but I am now full of admiration of your skills.’ There was no mockery in his voice.
‘A compliment? How unlike you. But I will return it: your horses are perfection. I have enjoyed this, thank you, sir.’ She pulled the horses to a walk and gave him back the reins; she too had a smile on her face.
Argyle let the horses walk on for a minute or two, and then pulled them up by the side of the road. He glanced behind him to see no one was coming, then turned towards her and said, ‘I know I promised I would not flirt, but I’m afraid I cannot help myself when I am sitting so close to you.’
He put his arm around her and cupped her face with his other hand to turn it to his; while she was driving, he had taken off his gloves.
His thumb lingered on her lower lip, and she grazed it with the tip of her tongue—as last time, she burned at his touch.
He bent his head and she put her hand on his neck to draw him closer.
His arm held her tight against him, and time stopped—then the curricle jerked forward, and he released her to control the restive horses.
When he had them settled, he set them on the way home.
He turned to glance at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and said, ‘Do not dare to say I spoil everything—you know you wanted this kiss as much as I did.’ He put a finger on her lips to silence her. ‘We shall say no more about it.’
Marguerite straightened her bonnet, feeling the heat in her face.
He took her hand and held it on his knee all the way to Harwick, driving with his other hand.
She remained silent, but did not pull her hand away, not even when he removed his for a few moments to set the horses straight.
She leaned a little against his shoulder and glanced at their linked hands and imagined she could feel the heat of his through her glove—he had not put his own gloves back on.
When they stopped in front of the house, the groom ran to the horses’ heads; Argyle jumped down and helped her off, holding her for a few seconds longer than necessary.
She said, ‘Thank you for letting me drive, Argyle. I did enjoy it.’ She stole a glance at him and saw him smile down at her—he touched her cheek quickly with cold fingers.
When he smiled like that, he had a dimple in his right cheek; she had never noticed it before.
She turned and went straight up to her bedchamber to change.
Sitting in her armchair for a few minutes before going down, after Flossie had left, carrying her outdoor clothes, she knew she was no longer afraid.
* * *
At luncheon her aunt made an appearance, so she and Alice had to sit with her and tell her of their doings, which both embellished for her benefit, trying to avoid each other’s eye for fear of getting the giggles.
Later the aunt went up to rest, and the young people played parlour games. It was a rainy afternoon.
Everyone was in high spirits, and there was much laughter and banter.
Argyle remained invisible all afternoon, and no one asked about him; it seemed there was a consensus his presence would have put a dampener on the general hilarity.
They played Charades, and Conundrums, and chased each other round the furniture in a wild game of Blindman’s Buff.
Felix went to the kitchen for the ingredients of Snapdragon, in which raisins had to be snatched out of a shallow bowl filled with flaming brandy, resulting in a number of slightly singed fingers.
Then Alice suggested playing Riddles, saying, ‘There must be a book of them somewhere. Perhaps we should ask the housekeeper.’
Another girl said, ‘I think I have seen one, in the small bookroom off the main library, where the ladies of the household keep their books. I was looking for a trashy novel to read in bed.’
Marguerite had also visited the bookroom, which was furnished with a large sofa and comfortable armchairs, and shelves of all kinds of amusing reading material—herbals and bird books and copies of The Botanical Magazine and La Belle Assemblée.
She offered to fetch the book, thinking she might choose a novel for herself as well.
The main library was a huge and imposing room, lined floor to ceiling with leather-bound tomes, some behind glass; high ladders facilitated access to the top shelves.
It was furnished with reading stands and tables, and deep leather armchairs.
Light flooded the library from a row of tall windows down one side, framed by green velvet curtains.
As Marguerite walked through to get to the bookroom, she passed by an alcove where two men were absorbed in a game of chess. One of them was Argyle.
Hearing her footsteps, he lifted his eyes, saw her and nodded, but said nothing. The second man rose and smiled at her, bowing his head.