Chapter Sixteen
“I COULD HARDLY BELIEVE IT when Lady Ingram’s courier presented us with a letter in the middle of the night requesting we attend you at Draycott Castle.” Vivienne strolled arm in arm with Muriel and Tess down a hill of daffodils toward the village of Draybridge. “If I hadn’t been staying with Tess while my family was in Brighton, I never would have been allowed to travel to Essex, and I’ve always longed to visit an ancient castle in this part of the country. Such wonderful fodder for my stories.” She drew a deep breath. “It seems the very air is charged with memories.”
“I’m thankful you were not on a restrictive schedule with your publisher and were able to join me.” Muriel leaned her head against her taller friend’s shoulder with a contented sigh.
“However, Lady Ingram’s logic is flawed. How is a party of three ladies less scandalous than a single lady under Lord Draycott’s roof?” Tess snapped her fingers at her dog to follow more closely now that they had reached the bordering sheep pastures. Her mottled pointer complied at once, even as he cast longing glances at the black-faced sheep. “Don’t even think about giving chase to them, Wolf.”
Muriel scratched the dog behind his ear. Lady Ingram had been hesitant to agree to their morning walk unescorted, but at last agreed thanks to Tess’s fearsome pet. “Your presence keeps all from assuming I am throwing myself at the earl until the rest of our party arrives. Besides the Ingrams, whom you met this morning, of course, Viscount Traneford and his friend Viscount Sullivan shall be arriving for dinner tonight, along with the Widow Whelan and Elena to make up the rest of the house party.”
“Well, if a fortune hunter is after you, I must say that I am the only guest that it makes sense to have at your side. At least I can defend us.” Tess lifted her skirts and withdrew the blade strapped to her calf, flipped it over in her hand in a practiced manner, and whipped her body around, flinging it at a tree, planting the knife deep within its bark. “All Elena Whelan can do is scream.”
Vivienne shuddered as Tess retrieved the blade with a powerful yank. “While I’m grateful for your skills, I cannot help but question your father’s judgment in teaching you such an odd means of defense for a lady.”
“You carry a pocket pistol in the City,” Tess reminded her, tossing the blade from one hand to the other, causing Vivienne to sidestep away from her.
“Yes. It’s for use in only the direst of circumstances. Say, I’m researching for a story set in the slums, and I need to capture the essence of a hardened criminal.”
Muriel gradually ceased listening, thankful for her friends’ distraction to keep their line of questioning at bay. Now that the flight out of London was behind her and she awoke to her friends arriving, eyes bright with adventure, Muriel needed a moment to process everything—especially Erik’s confusing desire to protect her. Until now, he had treated her only as a friend, but the way he cared for her in sweeping her away from danger … it left her carefully sealed emotions rising and threatening to burst the jar in her heart where she had hoped to keep them.
And then there was the viscount. She had not spoken to Lord Traneford more than a handful of times since she had stopped him from proposing that night in Vauxhall Gardens, and he was arriving in mere hours. She was fairly certain he would propose during the house party if she did not state her desire for friendship and nothing more … a conversation she wished to have over. Even though Lady Ingram insisted Muriel had given up the luxury of falling in love the moment she had made her abominable choice to propose to Lord Deverell, Muriel was not yet convinced.
She glanced over her shoulder to the sprawling castle rising from its island in the wide man-made lake, thinking of the earl who had sworn to protect her. Now, there was a man she could easily love if she were allowed—castle or no castle.
Wandering from the road, the girls sank down beside the creek for a reprieve, not bothering to cover their ankles in their solitary haven under a massive beech tree. Its twisted base provided a comfortable place to rest, while its branches dipped low enough for Muriel to climb up into it, her skirts draping on either side of the branch as she rested her legs on the massive limb, her back to the smooth gray trunk.
“What I don’t understand is why a fortune hunter would come after you now.” Tess dug an apple from her pocket and used her knife to cut it, tossing them each a slice. “You’ve had that fortune promised to you for years. It would have been easy for someone to snatch you away during your many walks to and from the bakery, even with your footman escorting you in the early mornings. Why now?”
“I have to agree with Tess. There is not much sense behind it.” Vivienne wiped the apple slice on her sleeve as if the knife had somehow tainted it. “Unless sense has gone out the window in the earl’s eyes where you are concerned. If that is the case, why has he extended Lord Traneford an invitation to the house party when the viscount clearly wishes to win your hand?” She shook her head. “I cannot make sense of it all.”
Muriel shrugged, chewing her apple. “Mayhap there are fortune hunters now because London didn’t know I existed before?”
“With the viscount attending you and an earl squiring you about town, I think you might be correct,” Vivienne replied around her mouthful, reaching her hand back for Tess to hand her a second slice.
Muriel knew any young lady would be thrilled to have such a high-ranking nobleman calling upon her, and yet, whenever she thought of Erik, no other man seemed to measure up. “As for Lord Traneford … I think we may be better suited as friends.”
“But isn’t friendship a paramount foundation for marriage?” Tess tossed the apple core into the tall grass, then dusted off her hands and pushed herself to her feet.
“Unless Lord Draycott is the deciding factor,” Vivienne interjected, astute as always.
Muriel sighed. “After all the trouble and expense I’ve caused my stepfather for a season in London, I may have to choose friendship over my hope of love after all. But not with Viscount Traneford … he is handsome, but we lack commonality.”
“‘Hope of love?’ Not again.” Tess moaned. “We cautioned you to guard your heart, Muriel. Please tell me that you have not gone and fallen for yet another man who will not have you?”
“I have done my best, but Erik understands me as no other man. He values me, even the traits the others would have wished for me to hide and amend.” She glanced down at her hands, which bore the evidence of her years of labor—calluses and scars that no amount of fine creams or Gowland’s lotion could heal. She sighed and slid off the branch, dropping to her feet.
Vivienne scrambled to her feet, extending her hands to each of her friends. “If you are determined to marry the earl, then it is up to the good Lord, Tess, and myself to see this match through.”
“Pardon?” Muriel blinked.
Vivienne plunked her hands on her hips. “Never you mind. You are not to be involved in a courtship with the earl except by gently refusing the viscount’s suit, frequent prayer, and keeping your wild ways in check, Miss Beau. We cannot have another debacle on our hands. If we are to evade your last fate, you must trust that we possess the talents it takes to see your dream of marrying a certain enigmatic earl through.”
Muriel laughed, linking her arms through her friends’ as they took to the road into Draybridge village in search of the bakery Erik had told her about.
A carriage rolled around the corner toward them, and, leaping to the side of the road, she spotted the Traneford family crest blazoned on its doors. Lord Traneford must have caught sight of her, for it slowed as soon as it passed and he hopped out, his cape billowing about him as his polished Hessian boots hit the packed earth. He lifted a hand in greeting. “Miss Beau!”
Vivienne’s eyes widened. “You are certain you do not wish to wed him? He’s stunning,” she whispered as he trotted back down the road toward them.
“Stunning, but not for me. We would fulfill one another’s requirements for marriage with my wealth and his title, but there is no passion betwixt us. He cares more for his bugs than me, and I do not fault him for it. And if I cannot bring myself to be jealous of his attention to beetles over me, entering into a marriage would be foolish.” She greeted him with a smile and shallow curtsy before introducing her party.
He bowed to them after Muriel’s introduction. “What a lovely surprise to happen upon you all. May I join you for the walk to the village? It seemed quite charming in passing.”
“Certainly. It is too fine a day to waste indoors,” Vivienne interjected, looping her arm through Tess’s and giving Muriel a meaningful stare before hauling Tess down the path before them.
Lord Traneford offered Muriel his arm. “I was quite grateful to receive Lord Draycott’s invitation, especially when I learned you would be in attendance.”
Muriel worried her bottom lip as she accepted his arm. “Lord Traneford, we have always been honest with one another.”
“Oh dear.” Traneford’s smile paused with his stride. “Are you about to tell me I have failed in my wooing of you?”
She released her hold on him, folding her hands before her skirts. “You have proved your honorable character to me in more ways than one. I’m afraid we lack … how shall I say this?”
“We lack a spark between us?” Traneford supplied, his smile knowing.
She exhaled in a rush. “You feel it too? I have not wounded you?”
“Mayhap my pride. I have found duty and love rarely align.” He glanced up the road to where Vivienne and Tess were getting too far ahead. “I need funds and you need a title. I had hoped our friendship would be an added boon.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any wealthy single ladies, would you?”
“Actually, I know two.” Muriel grinned, extending her hand. “To being matchmakers?”
“To friendship and matchmaking.” He clasped her hand and wrapped it about his arm, sighing.