Lady Faith Takes a Leap (11 page)

“We could ride over after luncheon if you’d like to.”

“That’s a grand idea.”

Pleased with his quick thinking, Vaughn continued to the stables. He looked forward to seeing John, a man he greatly respected. His brother-in-law had miraculously turned Vaughn’s life around when he’d placed his trust in him. Vaughn was now driven to live up to the faith John placed in him. He found the tall, blond-haired man deep in discussion about the condition of one of his carriage horses with the head groom. They were bent over a horse’s leg.

“Is the damage permanent?” John asked.

“No, my lord. A bit gourdy after the journey is all.
I’ll have the horse restored to perfect fitness before you leave.”

“Good man.”

“Vaughn.” John turned to him and shook his hand. He looked more settled and at ease these days than when he was working for the Crown. Being a proud father would change a man, Vaughn imaged. “I’ve just been telling Chaloner how well equipped you are to take on your own business. Now, tell me all about this proposed stud farm.” John threw an arm around Vaughn’s shoulders, and they walked back to the house.

“I shall need your advice, once it’s set up,” Vaughn said.

“I’ll be glad to help. What an exciting prospect.”

It was so good to see John. Vaughn was soon lost in conversation about a subject dear to his heart.

****

In the parlor at Highland Manor, Lady Montrose took the cup of tea from Faith’s mother. Lady Montrose’s expression reminded Faith of their cat, Sable, when she watched the canary cage being cleaned. “My brother, Lord Whitmore, has been seeing a lot of the dowager, Lady Brandreth.”

“A winter romance, how charming.” Faith’s mother offered her a plate of cakes and tiny cress sandwiches.

“But I have even better news,” Lady Montrose continued, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “I have reason to believe that Lord Vaughn is on the brink of offering for Rosamond.”

“My goodness, you must be thrilled,” Lady Baxendale said.

“Yes.” Lady Montrose nodded happily. “Lord Vaughn has remained at Rosamond’s side during several social events. He appears quite smitten.” She stirred her tea with a silver spoon. “I am, of course, delighted. So imposing, the Brandreths, I must confess I’ve always had a yen to see Rosamond marry into the family. And even though Lord Vaughn is not as wealthy as some, he will come into a fortune when his aunt passes away.”

Vaughn’s Aunt Fenella, the dowager’s sister, had been in excellent health and spirits the last time Faith had seen her, commanding a crowd in a London ballroom, but she held her tongue as her heart gave a sad flip. She was still heavy-hearted when Lady Montrose departed in high spirits.

Faith obeyed her father’s summons with a sense of dread. With the heavy atmosphere in the house, one might think they were in mourning. The only thing absent was the black wreath on the door. Her father had barely spoken to her over the last two weeks, and they had declined any social invitations, as he was convinced that the reason for Mr. Sefton’s change of heart lay at her door.

Behind his desk, her father motioned for her to sit. “My solicitor has written with news from London concerning Mr. Sefton.”

“What has happened, Father?”

“Sefton’s father has lost his fortune. Bad investments. The Baron’s corrupt estate manager absconded with thousands of pounds. Escaped to the Continent evidently. Mr. Sefton and Miss Celia Rogers are now engaged.”

“What a shocking thing to have happened.” Surprise mixed with relief, making Faith feel limp. “I don’t believe I’ve met Miss Rogers.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “A nabob’s daughter, plain as a pikestaff I’m told. But from one of the wealthiest families in the country.”

“Mr. Sefton must have received the news just before the ball.”

“One might suspect that is so.”

“It was not my fault then,” Faith felt obliged to add.

“Dashed smoky business.” Her father puffed his cheeks out with frustration. “There is, however, a possible suitor who will save your Season from being a failure.”

“Oh, who is that?” Faith clenched her hands together in her lap.

He rustled papers on the desk. “I have reason to believe that Viscount Pilkington is still interested in pursuing you with a view to marriage. I shall write to him.”

Faith paled. Pilkington was a dandy who admitted it took him four hours to dress. She suspected he padded out his calves. “I don’t wish to marry Pilkington, Father.”

Her father’s benevolence vanished under a fit of pique. “I will not countenance any more of your likes and dislikes, miss. Not another word. You may go.”

A sob caught in Faith’s throat, threatening to choke her as she stumbled from his study. Her mother hurried to her.

“What has happened, Faith?”

Faith gasped out her father’s intentions.

Her mother patted Faith’s back. “Oh, my love. I thought you were about to be a happy bride not this...dreadful business.”

Faith’s anger welled up inside her. “Can’t you speak to him?”

“I will, but your father is a conventional man, Faith.”

Faith gazed at her sadly. “You don’t want me to marry a man I don’t love, do you, Mama?”

“Of course I want you to be happy.” Her mother’s pale blue eyes flooded with tears. “But I also want you to be safe. I know what it’s like to be alone in the world, to fear being cast out in the street without a penny. After Honor’s father shot himself and left me in debt, I can’t think what might have happened to us but for your father.”

“Yes, I know, Mama.” Faith turned away and walked to the door. “I shall go for a walk.”

Her mother sighed. “It’s still very warm.”

“I’ll take my parasol.”

“Then please don’t wander too far, Faith.”

Vaughn and Sibella rode their horses across the fields and crossed a bridge over the river onto Baxendale land. Vaughn drew his mount closer to his stylish sister in her blue habit, the twist of dark hair glossy at her nape, beneath her hat. “I know you don’t believe in arranged marriages, Sib.”

Sibella gave a light laugh, which made him glad she’d put her sad past behind her. “Hardly. I had to fight tooth and nail to marry the man I loved.” She giggled. “And I had to fight John’s noble character as well.”

“I don’t want to bring back all that unpleasantness,” Vaughn said. “But I don’t like it that Lord Baxendale is determined to marry Faith to the man of his choice.”

“Baxendale didn’t succeed with Honor.”

“Honor is his step-daughter. Baxendale has settled a large dowry on Faith.”

She turned to stare at him. “You’re worried about her?”

“I believe he’s losing patience with Faith and will act, perhaps not in her best interest.”

“Poor Faith, I know what she’s going through.” Sibella was far too quick for him to give even the slightest hint of his feelings. “I shouldn’t worry too much, though. The Baxendale girls are determined in their own quiet way.”

“Sefton expressed an interest in Faith, but then he disappeared during the Tunbridge Wells ball without a word.”

“How odd. I’m sure that Faith had nothing to do with this man’s ungentlemanly conduct.”

“She didn’t.”

“Faith confided in you?”

“Ah, yes, when we danced together.”

His sister cast him a sly look. “I thought you were keen on Rosamond.”

Vaughn tensed, causing his horse to sidle. “Who I’m keen on isn’t the question here.”

“What is the question?”

“I thought you might talk to Faith. You know, lend a little of your experience to assist her.”

“To do what, exactly?”

Vaughn shook his head. As often was the case with Sib, whose mind seemed to travel down a different track, he was losing the thread of the conversation. “Just be sympathetic that’s all.”

“Well, of course, I will be, Vaughn. But your interest does surprise me.” Sibella raised her eyebrows. “Now I remember. Faith was smitten with you at one time, wasn’t she? A schoolroom crush?”

Vaughn cursed under his breath. He’d given Sib too much information. He might have known she would be onto it like a fox onto a guinea fowl. “That was too long ago to be relevant.” He urged his horse into a canter.

“But as she is not yet married,” Sibella called as she rode after him, her laugh tinkling in the still air, “I’m not entirely sure about that.”

They reached the Baxendale mansion, their horses clattering over the cobbles to the stables. Dismounting, they left their mounts with the groom and walked to the stone house with long graceful windows and an elegant classical pediment decorating the front façade. They left the circular driveway and approached the blue-painted front door.

“I’ll try and distract Lady Baxendale while you have a quiet word with Faith,” Vaughn said.

Lady Baxendale warmly greeted them. She liked Sib, everyone did. “Lady Montrose has just left,” she said with a glance at Vaughn. He tightened his jaw. “Do come into the parlor. Faith has gone for a walk.” She glanced at the mantel clock. “She should be back at any moment. I’ll ring for tea and call the girls.”

****

Faith ambled over a meadow following a path beside a stream. She’d walked farther today, not wishing to face her mother’s anxious face and her father’s grim determination. At least she now knew what lay behind Mr. Sefton’s puzzling conduct. After they received his letter from his estate, apologizing for his lapse of manners and withdrawing his suit without explanation, the atmosphere at home had worsened. Even Mercy, who was usually blind and deaf to family disagreements, spent most of the day at the stables, where she claimed to be setting up an area for her preparations, and Charity observed that her art suffered in a house so filled with bad humor.

Autumn was getting a grip, the trees turning their crimsons and golds and the air cooler. After autumn came winter, and the long, cold, dull season lay ahead unless Father brought the viscount up to scratch. She choked at the thought.

“You can be sure that your sister, Hope, will eclipse you all,” her father had said last night at dinner. “Hope knows what is expected of her. She will never disappoint.” He shook his head sorrowfully at Faith. “Hope’s no prettier than you, Faith, but she has a great sense of flair and an instinct for how to go about in society. Hope is ambitious, which isn’t a bad thing for a woman. All my daughters are attractive, but where do they get their airy-fairy notions? Certainly not from me.” He glared at her mother. “It must come from your mother’s side of the family.”

Faith had been tempted to point out that Aunt Christabel, Father’s sister, lived between the pages of a Gothic romance novel, but she’d clamped her lips shut. There was absolutely no sense in outraging him further.

At breakfast, her mother had predicted an engagement to be forthcoming between Vaughn and Rosamond with a worried glance at Faith. Faith stopped to admire a magnificent, towering cedar tree then lowered her gaze to her boots and trudged on, skirting puddles.

After tramping for a quarter-mile along the lane, she approached the ornate Highland Manor gates. She put down her parasol and hooked it over her arm. She’d almost reached them when a carriage rattled down the road at speed.

Not recognizing the vehicle, Faith walked on. Hearing her name called, she spun around as the coachman pulled the horses snorting and stamping to a stop.

The door flung open, and Mr. Warne jumped down. Faith backed away as a wash of alarm spread through her.

“Lady Faith, how very pleasant.” The fair-haired man strode purposefully toward her, his smile fixed and his eyes hard.

“Good day to you, Mr. Warne.” Faith turned and walked smartly to the gates.

When quick footsteps crunched over the gravel behind her, Faith broke into a run. She’d almost reached the gates when an arm coiled around her waist, wrenching her off her feet. Warne’s hand came over her mouth, stifling her cry for help.

He drew her back helplessly into the coach and slammed the door, shouting a command to the coachman. As the horses were whipped into a gallop, Faith raised her parasol to strike him, but he snatched it from her hands and threw it on the floor.

Mr. Warne’s satisfied glance traveled over her. “So, Lady Faith. You would turn your pretty nose up at the likes of me. We’ll see who shall fare better in the end. What will your anxious family pay for your safe, unsullied return?”

Faith could barely breathe as fear clutched at her ribcage. “Stop this carriage. How dare you. My father will have Bow Street onto you.”

“We’ll see how much he’s prepared to pay for you.”

“Let me go,” Faith whispered, swallowing on a lump in her throat. She forced herself to look at the hateful man sitting opposite. Warne wasn’t as well turned out as he’d been at the Duke of Morven’s estate. Then it had been his over-familiarity that had made both Honor and Edward wary of him. Had he fallen on hard times? There was a stain on his waistcoat, and his cuff was frayed.

“Don’t fret. If my plan fails, I will marry you,” he said with a lift of his sandy brows. “A woman such as you by my side will send my stocks soaring, and you will benefit from that as much as I.”

“My brother-in-law, Edward, will have the law onto you.” Faith placed her hand over her galloping heart. “You must be mad.”

“Not even a little mad. But very determined. Neither will Lord Edward want this to be common knowledge when he’s about to be called to the bar.”

She clung to the strap as the coach rocked along the woodland road, taking corners too fast. “Stop!” Faith yelled. “We shall all be killed!”

“We’ll have a good time, once you get used to things. You liked me well enough in Cornwall. Have you forgotten? We were getting on just fine before your brother-in-law interfered.” His gaze traveled over her. “You’re a pretty woman. We’ll make beautiful children together.”

“The Bow Street Runners will come after you,” she gasped, and her veins turned to ice. “You will have to run and hide like a rat in a hole. And Runners are known to be successful. You will spend the rest of your days in Newgate Prison.”