The Bumblebroth (9 page)

Lord Haverhill greeted them with all the loud courtesy of a wealthy farmer. Which is what he was, Mattie decided, and not the Town buck she had feared. His ruddy features, grey hair, and touch of gruff honesty reminded her of His Grace's brother Cosmo, who had inherited the dukedom, and she soon felt as at ease as she could among strangers.

Their host offered her his arm, but Mattie, fearing this would be too great an opportunity for William to make headway with Pamela, quickly pointed out her daughter as the principal in the group.

"Pamela is the one who is thinking of setting up her stables and the one who could most benefit from your discourse, sir. I am afraid such valuable information would be quite wasted on me."

Lord Haverhill politely dismissed her protest, but he soon recognized the aficionados among their party. He could not fail to do so when Pamela fell into raptures over everything she saw.

Although Mattie had contrived the arrangement in some measure, it felt quite natural for William to fall into step beside her. She soon found herself on his arm, and could concede that he hid his disappointment very well. Their conversation in the carriage had done much to lessen the resentment she felt in his presence, so much so that she began to suspect him of trying his best to lull her into a false sense of security.

None of the arrogance she had witnessed in him appeared this morning. The stark lines of his countenance were relaxed. The gleam of humour that was so often in his eyes had lost its cynical edge, giving him a more open air.

It was as if the breeze had blown away his worldliness, the way her laughter had stripped her of years.

As they drew near the stables, Gerald launched into a description of Westbury Manor and its pasturage. Lord Haverhill listened with his farmer's ear and gave Pamela his best advice concerning the placement of meadows for yearlings.

Then, they entered the stone building with its arched roofs and painted wooden stalls, and even Mattie had to gasp.

Inside, there were only six stalls. But each was enormous, large enough to give a groom plenty of space in which to move. Each was occupied by a splendid thoroughbred— four stallions and two mares in all— each horse measuring well over fifteen hands.

Mattie, who was fairly ignorant about horses, admired their glossy coats and well-brushed manes and tails. Pamela, who knew much more, was rendered speechless.

Gerald hung back and anxiously watched for Pamela's reactions. The thought of being able to help her set up such an establishment so excited him that he could barely contain himself. William had been right about Lady Pam. She was different from other girls, and the evidence of this was in her attentiveness now. Visions of her standing in the winner's circle at Newmarket flashed through Gerald's mind.

Unlike her mother, Pamela had a reasonable notion of how much such a venture would cost. But her father had left her a large fortune— so much money, in fact, that the dream was well within her reach.

Gerald, with an enthusiasm to match Pamela's own, had only needed one hint from her to whisk her into the world of race horses. Now, he could be pleased by the intelligence of her questions. Lord Haverhill must be impressed, too, for he answered them at great length. Gerald felt a certain pride in his protegee, and when their host turned back to converse with William and the duchess, Gerald took the opportunity to take Pamela aside.

He drew her over to one stall, opened it, and, with the groom's permission, showed her the manner in which racehorses must be shod. Not in the least intimidated by the horse's vast size or nervousness, Pamela soothed it, then bent to examine its shoe for herself.

"Here, Lady Pam," Gerald said in a low aside. "You've got to take another peep at Haverhill's prime stud."

The horse in question was one they had glimpsed on the general tour of the stables, the stallion that had brought Haverhill his greatest number of wins. Gerald entered its box, dragging Pamela by the hand.

"See here," he said, releasing her to run his hands over the horse's withers. "These are the points of confirmation to look for."

As he showed her, drawing special attention to the stallion's neck, withers, and haunches, Pamela followed his movements intently. The stallion was spirited, and at first, shied from a stranger, but Pamela got him to relax. Very soon, and to the groom's evident satisfaction, she had the horse both figuratively and literally eating out of her hands.

On the way out, Gerald and she discussed horses and bloodlines as they trailed behind Mattie and Lord Westbury. Gerald was as excited as she was by her plans.

"I would be happy to advise you as you go along," he offered. Then, feeling the colour stealing up his neck, he stammered, "If you wouldn't mind the interference, that is."

"Not at all," she insisted. "I'm not sure that I would know how to do it without you." It was Pamela's turn to blush. "Stocker never has wanted to help me, you see, but it seems as if you've given this much more thought than I ever have."

"I suppose I have," he admitted, "though you mustn't think I ever hoped of owning a stud of my own. Will's a capital sort of brother; I mean to say, he's very generous, but I could never afford such a thing on my allowance."

"Then, maybe we could be partners," Pamela said, excitement lighting up her face. "You could help me set up the stables and purchase my first horse. And if you saw one you would like to invest in, then maybe we could go halvers."

"Yes, I could do that! And if he won . . . ." Gerald did not need to say more, but he could already see the string of thoroughbreds they would own.

While the two young people had been chattering away, William had kept a subtle eye on them and was very pleased with what he saw. Something had told him that Lady Pamela was just the sort of girl to interest Gerald, and he had the feeling they would become fast friends, if nothing else.

He had told himself that his offer to take them on this outing had as much to do with Gerald's welfare as it had with his own curiosity about the duchess. But he was no longer sure. Her unguarded comments, so naively given, had sparked his protective instincts. Her wide-eyed innocence had stirred his loins. After his many years in Town, he would never have believed that a woman could enchant him the way this one did.

The reason for her disapproval of his attentions to Pamela was becoming more apparent. It was clear that Mattie's own marriage had been less than ideal. No wonder that she wanted to protect her daughter from such an error, if her girlhood had been cut short at a similar age.

To think that a woman as beautiful and charming as she should have chosen the life of a hermit seemed the greatest waste imaginable to William. How she would adorn a ballroom! He could picture her in fine lawn dresses, silk pelisses with fur trim, and fetching bonnets with blue ribbons to bring out the colour of her eyes.

A sudden desire to dress her himself seized him so strongly that, at first, he did not hear his host's next remark.

"I beg your pardon, Haverhill." William hastened to cover his silence. "I must have been gathering wool. What was that you said?"

"I was telling the duchess that as soon as I heard you four were coming, I took the liberty of ordering up a luncheon for us. The servants are setting it up on the lawn now, if you will be so good as to follow me."

William started to express the normal platitides, but he was interrupted by Mattie's distressed voice.

"Oh, but we mustn't! My lord, you are too good, but we must not disturb your servants!"

"What's that?" Lord Haverhill cocked his grizzled head as if he had not heard aright.

William took Mattie's hand and folded it over his arm. "Nothing, Haverhill, other than a proper reluctance to inconvenience your household."

"Inconvenience my— " Haverhill glanced at Mattie's concerned expression and did his best to understand. "Disturb the servants, what?" He paused. "Ha! That's a good one, Duchess! Capital joke, what? Inconvenience my servants."

Chuckling, he turned his back to lead them across the lawn where the picnic had been laid. William strolled after him more slowly with Mattie on his arm.

"Lord Westbury," Mattie ventured in a whisper. "Why did Lord Haverhill think I was making a joke?"

William had suppressed his own tendency to laugh, and now he did nothing more than smile. "I suppose that the notion that his cook should not cook and his butler should not— buttle, if you will forgive the invention— struck him as humourous."

"Oh, but I did not mean— Oh, I think I see." Mattie was quiet for a moment before asking, "You mean that to serve us all luncheon will not be a particular burden to them?"

"I hardly think so. We do not mean to stay forever, after all, and surely when they were engaged, they had some anticipation of having to work."

Mattie had been watching his expression while he answered her, so now he let her see his smile. She flushed as he had expected she would, but smiled back.

"On occasion," he emphasized strongly, deciding to prolong the joke. "We should not make a practice of coming every day or I suspect they might become disaffected."

"Then, we shall have to take care not to abuse them. I shall cancel the plans I had made to move right in."

William was glad to see the twinkle in her eyes that told him she could enjoy some teasing. Again, that urge to take care of her, to bring out the dimples in her cheeks, and to touch her struck him strongly, making him wonder at himself.

This is no casual interest, he realized, knowing he had never felt precisely this way before. Of a sudden, his willingness to put himself out for Pamela made perfect sense. But William would bide his time, so he could watch this incomparable flower unfold before him.

Chapter Six

On a morning soon after, confused by yet another visit from William, Mattie decided to lay the problem at her best advisor's feet.

She found Miss Fotheringill seated by a window in the morning room, where she had repaired to do her mending. At the sound of Mattie's arrival, Gilly raised her head and greeted her, looking her over with approval. "I see that Turner has at last furnished you with something more decent to wear in the garden. That is much better, do you not agree?"

Mattie looked down at her practical garment, a sort of cross between a walking gown and a dairymaid's pinafore, and sighed. "I suppose it is more decent. But I cannot help thinking that Marie Antoinette would have worn something just this absurd while pretending to be a peasant."

Gilly's eyes danced, but she answered quite soberly, "If Her Majesty of France wore such a garment, then it must be comme il faut."

"I suppose you are right."

Mattie's listless response raised a spark of concern in Gilly's mind. "Is there something the matter, Your Grace?"

Mattie took the chair across from her and brushed the errant strands of hair away from her face. "It is only that Lord Westbury called again this morning, despite all my attempts to discourage him."

"Oh, dear. Do you mean that he continues to call for Pamela?"

Mattie nodded, then raised both hands in a hopeless gesture. "Barlow seems quite unable to discourage him. I have tried my best, but even though I make it clear that Pamela may not receive morning visitors, he insists upon coming around."

Gilly's brow rose. "Does he insist upon seeing her?"

"Oh, no. It is done so casually, you see. He rarely does more than ask after her health, so that I cannot, in all fairness, object. If he were more direct, I could send him about his business, but as it is, he pretends that his is nothing more than a neighbourly visit. He stops on his morning ride to see how we get on, although he always troubles himself to stable his horse and find me in the garden."

"I see what you mean." Gilly took up her stitching again. "It is all quite unexceptionable."

"Yes," Mattie said miserably. "And he has been so kind — teaching Pammy how to drive and taking us on that truly delightful outing— you must see my dilemma."

Gilly pondered, and then asked, "Are you quite certain he is calling to see Pamela?"

"He must be! Why else would a gentleman who, according to all repute, seldom lingers in the country, be spending so much time here? We might not regard it, but the social season is hardly more than half over. Imagine all the functions he must be missing! And, don't forget, his mother made it quite clear that Pamela was the object of their first call."

She sighed again. "It must be her dowry he wants, although I should think Lord Westbury would be reasonably well off without it. But, perhaps— living in Town the way he does— Oh, Gilly! You don't think he has gambling debts, do you?"

"I shouldn't think so, but it is possible. I can see why you are concerned, but I have never seen any sign that Pamela— " Gilly broke off. She pondered for a moment before giving her head a little shake.

"What?" Mattie rose straight up in her chair, alarm on her face. "What have you noticed?"

Gilly's glance was cautious. "I was going to say that I had not seen any signs of infatuation, but I must confess that she has been a bit distracted lately. I was attributing it to this scheme of hers for setting up her stud, but it could be that she is feeling something else."

Mattie clapped both hands to her face. "It is exactly what I feared."

"Not necessarily. Who knows what dreams will make a girl's eyes shine?"

Mattie groaned. "You have not seen him. If you had, you would not need to ask."

She fell silent, staring at the wall for a time, before saying in a desperate tone of voice, "Gilly, what can I do? How can I make him leave my Pammy alone?"

"Would he be so bad a husband for her?"

"No, it's not that. But she's a baby. And even if she weren't, I still would want her to meet scores of men and take her pick from among them. If I thought that Lord Westbury was in love, it might be different, but when she's with him, he gives no sign of feeling that way."

Gilly studied her for a long moment. Then she asked softly, "Would you know how to tell if he was?"