Rhonda Woodward Read online

  “Only this: Last night you made it transparently clear that you wished to avoid any censorious judgment from family and community, yet today that no longer seems of concern. To see you whispering with Sefton, one could easily suspect that the two of you have met before this afternoon and wonder at it.”

  Shock halted her steps and she faced him. “Oh, how boorish of you to bring up last night,” she made sure her voice did not carry to the others ahead of them. “I did nothing I need be ashamed of and for you to hint otherwise—”

  He stopped as well. “I hint, Miss Buckleigh?” he said in an infuriatingly mild tone. “You mistake me. I only meant to express that I find you, as I said, curious.”

  Frowning, she reviewed that moment beneath the stained glass with Sefton, and wondered if indeed it could appear more intimate than it was. She dismissed the niggling doubt that crept in, for there was nothing untoward about a lady and a gentleman having such a brief conversation in so public a place. She strongly suspected the Marquis was determined to be vexing.

  “We were not whispering, as you put it. Mr. Sefton was apologizing, although, frankly, it is none of your affair.”

  “Indeed it is not,” he said with an inclination of his head, unfazed by the scold. “For my part, I would not stare if you and the gentleman danced a jig in the village square—but from your attitude last night, I assumed you would prefer no one else learn of your moonlit waltz.”

  She cast him a suspicious look, recalling again what she had heard of him last night and what Mama had said about him that very morning. “I suspect, my lord, that you are bored and wish to use me as a diversion. If you find Parsley Hay so dull, I wonder that you stay.”

  He looked down at her, and quirked a black brow. This time, she did not mistake the tease in his gaze. “Again, you mistake me, Miss Buckleigh. I am the furthest thing from bored.”

  Just then, Deirdre turned and called out, “Marina, we have agreed to stop in at the rectory to see the Vicar’s Roman coins!”

  With relief she replied, “Very good, Mr. Ralston does love to show them off,” and without giving the Marquis another look she sped tempo to catch up with her sister and the others.

  Chapter Seven

  Three days later, Cortland found himself lounging in a wing chair in the south-facing drawing room in Ridgeton Abbey. He surveyed the scene before him, amusement and frustration vying for the upper hand in his emotions.

  In attendance were a befuddled-looking Pen, Vanessa, the ever-obliging Mrs. Langford and a fidgety-looking Sefton—Fairdale and Mr. Langford had made themselves scarce, curse the lucky devils.

  His Aunt Meredith and Cousin Eugenia completed the group. Cortland watched his aunt and cousin closely, regretting again that his uncle Octavius had been prevented from joining the house party due to pressing business with his tenants.

  His relations had arrived late in the day yesterday. When he helped them from the coach he could see by his aunt’s haggard expression and Eugenia’s sullen pout that it would be wiser to leave any discussions until they had rested.

  Before tea, he’d had a brief discussion with his aunt, who still looked weary and worried. “I don’t know, Fitzhugh, this may the worst idea you and my husband have had. Won’t it be easier for them to make plans to run off while they are under the same roof?”

  “I think you will find, Aunt Meredith, that it may well be easier for Eugenia to see him in his true light here. Besides, I have had a chat with Sefton—you can imagine how surprised he was to see me—and he has assured me that he has given up the notion of eloping with Eugenia. I am not naïve enough to think that he will give up completely, but now that his plans have been exposed he realizes that he must be circumspect while he regroups.”

  Or turns his attentions elsewhere, he concluded cynically, thinking of a pair of fine gray eyes.

  “He is a very handsome young man,” Aunt Meredith went on, clenching her hands together. “And his family would certainly be a desirable connection. But his reputation! I can hardly believe that he is so deeply in debt. And I understand that is after the earl already paid off his first debts.”

  Cortland did not tell his aunt that owing a king’s ransom was not Sefton’s only shortcoming.

  “We shall keep an eye on them both and perhaps Eugenia will find other things to distract her from this absurd conviction that Sefton is the man for her.”

  Aunt Meredith smiled wanly. “Fitzhugh, do not think that the irony of the situation is lost on me. Your reputation, in its own way, is as shocking as Sefton’s. But I do so appreciate your help, you have no idea how horribly stressful this has all been.”

  “Well, dear Aunt, it takes a rake to know a rake,” he replied with a grin.

  Now, he watched Eugenia—who took after her father, blue-eyed and fair-haired—hardly able keep her eyes from Sefton, who looked anywhere but in her direction.

  Vanessa and Mrs. Langford were valiantly attempting to keep the conversation going by expressing their mutual delight in Parsley Hay.

  “It’s as if we have been settled here forever, Lady Meredith. And our neighbors have been most welcoming and congenial. Most particular favorites are Lord and Lady Buckleigh and their charming daughters.”

  “It will be very nice for Eugenia to meet young ladies her age,” Aunt Meredith said, her smile drawn.

  Lady Darley nodded enthusiastically before continuing. “Miss Marina Buckleigh is very near your age, dear Eugenia. One would never suspect she’d spent the whole of her life here; she is not the least rustic. She is quite tall and elegant, with the most delightful ease to her manners. I suspect the two of you will get along famously.”

  “I’m sure,” Eugenia mumbled, sending Sefton another speaking look.

  Sefton responded by running his fingers around his neckcloth and picking up his tea again.

  Cortland somehow managed to contain his laughter. This was the most dashed absurd thing he’d witnessed in an age. Here they all sat, several perfectly reasonable adults, including Pen, behaving as if this silly chit wasn’t making a cake of herself over a certified wastrel.

  “Yes, the Buckleigh ladies are quite polished,” Mrs. Langford put in quickly. “The gown Miss Marina wore to the ball was quite out of the ordinary and her riding habit, the deep blue one, you recall, Lady Darley, was the most fashionable thing imaginable. I really must ask the name of their mantua-maker.”

  “Oh, and I have not told you the best thing!” Lady Darley paused until Eugenia reluctantly turned her attention back to her, “We have received the most charming invitation to attend a ball at Buck Hill next week.”

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Langford enthused, dutifully keeping the conversational ball rolling. “I have heard that the Buckleighs live in true baronial splendor. It promises to be a delightful evening.”

  “Yes. So you see, Eugenia, you will be kept so busy with fun that you will not know what to do.”

  “I’m sure,” Eugenia mumbled again.

  An awkward silence settled over the room and Cortland found it all so entertaining he did nothing to fill the breach.

  Finally, Eugenia looked over at him and said in a ridiculously petulant tone, “Cousin Fitzhugh, I still do not understand why you are here. You never leave Swangrove Court unless it’s to go to London.”

  “If I have become that predictable then I’m even more pleased to be here.”

  “But you hate being bored.”

  “I say—” began Pen, looking faintly hurt.

  “I haven’t been the least bit bored,” Cortland put in with a wry smile. Eugenia’s comment recalled the way Marina Buckleigh had accused him of being bored and using her to divert himself.

  Marina had not spoken with petulance, but her startling, true gray eyes had flashed silver with her displeasure.

  His plan in coming to Parsley Hay had been simple enough, however the sudden appearance of Miss Buckleigh was proving to be a complication. Despite her modish sophistication and refreshingly confident manner, s
he was patently unworldly. If he didn’t have a care, he could easily be in danger of becoming embroiled in a tedious drama.

  Gad, he disliked provincial sensibilities, the sooner this business was done with the better. He would return to Swangrove Court content that safeguarding Eugenia from Sefton was his good deed of the decade.

  Lady Darley, to the obvious relief of everyone, most notably Sefton, suggested the ladies take a walk around the park, as the weather was still so tolerable.

  “Oh yes!” Eugenia jumped up, casting a beseeching look toward Sefton. “And the gentlemen must join us.”

  Sefton, after a furtive glance in Cortland’s direction, made an incoherent excuse, bowed to the ladies, and left the room with some haste.

  Cortland and Pen followed the others from the room, and Cortland made the excuse of needing to deal with a few letters of business to avoid the excursion with the ladies.

  “Lud, Cortland,” Pen said as the ladies went in search of their outdoor things, “What was all that about? Your cousin doesn’t seem the same girl we’ve all known.”

  “Yes. Dashed if I understand the workings of the female brain.”

  “Poor old Sefton. He looked as if he’d swallowed a frog.”

  Cortland smiled grimly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly had business elsewhere and took leave of your hospitality.”

  Pen shrugged. “Our families are close and we’ve all known him since school days, you know, but if you’re put out with him then I hope he takes the hint and takes himself off.”

  ***

  The news that the Marquis of Cortland’s relations had joined Mr. Penhurst’s house party reached Buck Hill, and the ladies of the house declared themselves very interested in meeting them.

  “Jane Willingham says that Miss Brandon was in Town last spring and is considered a diamond of the first water,” Deirdre said, for she finally had her visit with Jane and Lydia that day and received a fresh batch of gossip. “Jane says Miss Brandon has forty thousand pounds settled upon her and received more than a dozen offers of marriage, but turned them all off.”

  “Well I think it is in the poorest taste to discuss money in such a careless way. Miss Brandon’s dowry is certainly not our concern.” Lady Buckleigh did not lift her eyes from her task of reviewing the large stack of correspondence before her, most of which were responses to her invitation to the ball.

  “No, but you must admit that it is a prodigious sum,” Deirdre stated.

  Marina silently agreed and wondered if the Marquis’s relations were as toplofty and mocking as he was.

  “I shall send Lady Darley a note making it clear that we would be honored to have Lady Meredith and her daughter at our ball,” Mama stated. “I am most gratified, girls, that we shall have above eighty people. Martha Halbury has sent me a lovely long letter, saying that she wouldn’t miss it. And they live all the way in Wilford.”

  “How lovely for you, Mama, I know you and Mrs. Halbury grew up together as she was old Vicar Fielding’s sister.”

  “Yes, they will be staying at Fielding Manor for a week following the ball, so it will give us a chance to visit. She specifically mentions that George wishes to claim a dance with each of you.”

  Marina smiled as she recalled a skinny young man a year or two older than herself. “I guess George must be grown up by now.”

  “Oh, wonderful! Then there may certainly be enough gentlemen,” Deirdre proclaimed, causing Marina to smile.

  “I wonder what Mrs. Birtwistle will wear,” Marina mused aloud. “She certainly has the talent and ability to create a spectacular confection, but her demeanor is so retiring, I can’t imagine her being as daring with her own attire as she is with ours.”

  “I can’t wait to see.” Deirdre sighed happily.

  Holmes, their starch-faced butler entered the drawing room, saying, “My lady, Mr. Sefton is hoping that your ladyship is at home.”

  “Mr. Sefton? Oh yes, Lord Buckleigh mentioned a game of billiards with him, and you girls showed him the church.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Marina said in a strangled voice.

  “I should like to meet the young man.”

  “Very good, my lady.”

  Marina jumped up, smoothed her pale lavender gown, and checked her hair. By the time the door opened again, and Mr. Sefton swept in, tall, blond, and glorious-looking, she felt calm enough to keep her expression serene.

  “Lady Buckleigh,” he said, taking her outstretched hand and pressing a swift kiss. “I have had the honor and pleasure of meeting Lord Buckleigh and your lovely daughters, but once I had your invitation in hand, it became intolerable to not present myself in person to thank you for your kindness.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sefton. Won’t you stay for tea?”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  He turned and greeted Marina and Deirdre, and Marina was very sure that he lingered over her hand for an instant longer than strictly polite.

  He certainly was magnificent-looking. His deep blue coat set off his fair hair and vivid blue eyes handsomely. Marina was secretly pleased with the dazzling attentive smile he focused on Mama and could see how impressed she was with their unexpected visitor.

  Once they were all seated and the tea cart brought in, Mr. Sefton was so solicitous and amusing, that each lady was thoroughly charmed.

  In response to Lady Buckleigh’s gentle query, Mr. Sefton said, “I grew up in Kent at Belmonte Park. We are a large, happy family, Lady Buckleigh, and my own home, to my great pleasure, is situated on the grounds.”

  “Kent, I understand, is a lovely county. Is your family much at home, Mr. Sefton?”

  “Alas, my father prefers the delights of London, but my mother loves Belmonte Park so much that she rarely leaves.”

  “And you have known Mr. Penhurst for some time?”

  “Yes. Earl Penhurst, Mr. Penhurst’s grandfather, and my grandmother are distant cousins. Our families have always been close.”

  Marina liked this information, for it held the promise that he may visit Ridgeton Abbey again in the future.

  At that point, Mama left off these personal questions, and the conversation turned to the ball and other generalities. Soon, Mr. Sefton rose to take his leave, again expressing his pleasure at receiving Lady Buckleigh’s invitation.

  Mama smiled graciously. “I am sorry that my husband missed your visit, Mr. Sefton. But this time of year he is so busy in the kennels, that it’s difficult to pull him away.”

  “I understand perfectly, Lady Buckleigh. I shall bid you all adieu until Wednesday next. I hope I do not presume too much to ask if I may have the honor of dancing with both your daughters.”

  He said this with such a beseeching, boyish smile that Mama laughed and Deirdre instantly said, “Oh, certainly, Mr. Sefton!”

  He looked directly at Marina and said, “Would you do me the honor of dancing the first set with me, Miss Buckleigh?”

  Those aquamarine eyes were quite distracting and she could not look away. Clearing her throat, she said, “I’d be delighted, Mr. Sefton, thank you.”

  After he took his leave, Mama and Deirdre looked at her with bright, knowing eyes.

  “Why, Marina dear, you seem to have made quite the impression on Mr. Sefton during your tour of the church.” Mama’s smile was gentle.

  “He’s a very mannerly gentleman; I believe he just wanted to express his gratitude for your invitation.”

  “Do you think so? Deirdre, why don’t you go and see if the extra glassware has yet been discovered in the attic. That has been much on my mind.”

  “Certainly Mama, I understand.” On her way out of the drawing room, Deirdre sent Marina a sly smile.

  “Come sit next to me, my love.” Mama held out her hand and Marina joined her on the settee.

  “It is sometimes difficult for me to realize that you are near grown. Where did these nineteen years go? My love, it brings tears to my eyes.”

  Marina was touched by her mother’s su
dden wistfulness, but did not quite know how to respond.

  “But la,” Mama continued, “here we are, about to give a ball and the handsome Mr. Sefton is paying you very marked attention. His family and connections are unassailable, but that gives us no real notion of him, does it?”

  “Er . . . I suppose not.” She wondered what her mother was trying to get at.

  “It is all very exciting to have new people in the neighborhood, but Mr. Penhurst’s houseguests shall soon depart. And do not forget, you and Deirdre will have your Season this spring.”

  Although still vague, Mama’s meaning was becoming clearer. “Oh, Mama, Mr. Sefton only asked to stand up with me for the first set—’twas not a declaration!”

  Despite the pragmatism of this statement, she instantly recalled Mr. Sefton’s words to her in the church: My only excuse is that I was quite swept away by your grace and beauty. Not quite a declaration, but so terribly romantic it made her heart thud anew.

  The hint of concern cleared from Mama’s brow. “I knew I could count on you to keep your head and not forget that you are partial to Henry Willingham. Although, upon some thought it may not be a bad thing for Henry to see other gentlemen being attentive to you.”

  Marina had not expected this turn. “Partial to Henry? I own I have always been fond of Henry, but for partiality to occur there would have to be other young men to compare him to, don’t you think? Henry is the only young man near my age in the neighborhood.”

  Mama looked taken aback for a moment, then let out a hearty laugh. “Oh my love, you are absolutely right! I had not looked at it that way at all. You’ve always been the most sensible, levelheaded girl, your Papa and I can certainly be confident in your sound judgment.”

  Considering the way her heart leapt at the very thought of Mr. Sefton, Marina felt a twinge of guilt when she said, “Yes, no need to be concerned, Mama, my heart is not in the least danger from anyone.”

  After another squeeze on her hand, Marina was shooed from the room. “You have no idea how many things must be attended to before the ball. Do help your sister with looking for that glassware—and the extra punch bowls have not been found, either.”