A perilous engagement, p.3
A Perilous Engagement, page 3
“It appeared Lady Ariel wished to speak privately with me, and a morning ride seemed a good solution. Surely you do not think she had something to do with Ivor’s death!” One to listen to advice when offered, he waited to see what the man he was coming to respect more and more had to say to the matter.
“No, I do not think she was in any way responsible. However, matters did not add up to my satisfaction. All I can say is to be on guard.”
“I feel as though I have plunged into the middle of an intrigue,” Jordan said with a smile that faded when he saw the serious mien on his steward.
“I shall say no more on the matter, my lord. May I suggest you keep your eyes and ears open and be a trifle wary of all who approach you for whatever reason?” The steward smiled as he added a final thought. “Unless you seek a wife, perhaps it would be well to let it be known you are not in the market for such. Sunday morning service is a good time. Miss Vipont is the premier gossip, who will happily spread news, thus sparing you intrusions.”
He left them with more than a little to mull over.
“Well, well, fancy your steward being a Shirley,” Percy murmured as he sought a chair by the sputtering fire.
Jordan walked over to stir the fire, then looked at Percy. “This has been quite a day. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings.”
“I’d say we may want to do a bit of mousing about the area. I did not like to hear of the question regarding your cousin’s death.”
“True,” Jordan replied absently. “From what little I knew of him and the few times we met, I cannot say I had any love for the man. Yet, I would not have wished him dead, killed by someone for an unknown reason.”
“An angry father, perhaps?” Percy said, obviously thinking of the remark about the maids.
“That is possible. Come—let us try the billiards table. I shall need a clear mind when I meet Lady Ariel in the morning. What shall you do?”
“Now that Watson has come with the rest of my things and the curricle, I believe I will take a ride into the village and have a look about. Who knows what I might uncover.”
Jordan took a deep breath, then said, “I know you mean to joke, but do have a care.” His smile was strained.
“As to that, I should say the same for you—going off on a ride when your cousin died while enjoying the same.”
They sauntered off to the billiards room together. Jordan selected a cue, then turned to his friend.
“You will have to beat me without my spotting you a single point,” Jordan said with a forced laugh. He did not want to talk of death anymore this evening.
* * * *
Miss Maitland shook out the embroidery upon which she had labored these past weeks and frowned at her niece. “I was not pleased that you should walk off by yourself to the window without a by-your-leave. Most impolite, my dear girl. Not the thing, you know.”
“Yes, Aunt,” Ariel replied softly. “But there is a rather fine view from that window. The gardens are very nice this time of year.”
“Just so you pay no heed to the rector’s words. Such nonsense I never heard in my life. Fancy him thinking that the new Lord Harcourt ought to marry you simply because his cousin had briefly been your betrothed. That man doesn’t have the brains God gave a flea. Where did he come by such notions, I ask you!” She threaded a needle, then attacked the hapless embroidery as though it were the rector.
“I believe it was King Henry the Eighth who was an example of wedding his brother’s promised bride, was it not? Did not his father arrange it?”
“Yes, and when he had no heir, he said it was God’s punishment for marrying his brother’s widow, although I do not believe they were actually wed.”
“Betrothals were considered almost like marriage then. It was impossible to escape from one, once engaged,” Ariel answered thoughtfully.
“Let that be a lesson to you, dear niece. Take care with whom you spend your time.” Miss Maitland gave her niece a speculative look.
“And where do I ever go that you are not with me?” Ariel asked, a rueful smile on her lips.
“I do not go riding with you,” Aunt reminded. “See to it that you have a groom with you when you go off on your wanderings. And do not leave Stafford grounds! You are a pretty girl, not to mention a great heiress.”
“Indeed, I should not wish anything to happen to me,” Ariel said with a pensive look at her aunt. Why she could not love the woman who had tended her so faithfully all the years since her mother’s death she couldn’t say. Her aunt was amiable, if a trifle reclusive.
Ariel rose from her chair and crossed to the window. She must be a dreadful girl, for she had not mourned when her betrothed was killed. An accident, they said, and she supposed it must have been, for Ivor had been a reckless rider, taking chances at every turn. The engagement had not been of her choosing.
“You ought to take up your embroidery, Ariel,” Miss Maitland said presently.
It seemed like an order to Ariel, and she rebelled, however briefly. “My head aches. I believe I shall go for a walk in the garden. The house oppresses me.”
“It would be better if you went to your room and had a cold vinegar compress on your forehead. I shall see to it at once.” Miss Maitland put aside her embroidery, fully prepared to follow through on her words.
Closing her eyes, Ariel fought the urge to scream. “Thank you so much, dear Aunt. I believe if I could just sit quietly in the garden, listening to the birds, I would be fine in but a little while. Excuse me.” Before her aunt could object, Ariel crossed the room at a swift pace, running down the stairs to the ground floor as though pursued. In a way, she was—pursued, that is. Every moment alone was treasured.
Finding a bench under a turkey oak, Ariel settled back against the rough bark to enjoy the sounds and scents of the garden. A fountain splashed in the center of the plots containing ordinary flowers and herbs, as well as interesting plants that her father had collected from all over the world.
She wished he would leave India and settle here again. Father likely found it difficult, but she missed him dreadfully. He did not get along well with his wife’s sister, although he paid her well to look after her niece. If he came home Aunt Maitland could go elsewhere. Goodness knew she must have a tidy sum tucked away in consols or a bank account. Ariel had checked the Stafford books to discover the amount her aunt received, and it was most generous. Since she never spent a farthing of it, using household funds for her few purchases, it stood to reason she saved it all.
A squirrel crept close, and Ariel wondered how it dared come into the garden. Should old Turner see it, the animal would never see another day.
“Shoo. Go away, you silly beast.”
“Ariel, I cannot think the sun will be good for your head. Come inside now,” commanded her aunt from just inside the terrace door.
With a sigh, Ariel obediently rose from her pleasant retreat to return to the house. It was a lovely house, full of light and charm. She had known just how to decorate Lady Harcourt’s home, for she had her own as a fine example.
“Coming, Aunt.” Ariel looked forward to her morning ride with Lord Harcourt. He was more handsome than his cousin and appeared to have better manners as well. He hadn’t surveyed her with a predatory eye, but rather seemed indifferent to her charms. He also seemed sympathetic, and that had prompted her to seek conversation with him.
Ariel joined her aunt and listened to her strictures on the dangers of sunshine while thinking of the morrow and the prospect of learning more of her new neighbor.
* * * *
Jordan turned to watch the young woman who cantered down the Stafford road to join him. He had been uncertain whether or not to call this meeting off. Yet he had come, the beseeching look from a pair of fine gray eyes overcoming his reluctance to be involved with any lady.
“‘Tis a glorious morning, is it not, my Lord Harcourt?” she caroled out as she neared. Garbed in a flattering gray habit, a neat small hat firmly in place, she was too attractive to be out alone.
“No groom?” he admonished, feeling like her father, not a pleasant sensation in the least.
“Oh, he trails behind me. He has known me forever and knows I would never do anything amiss. Besides, he has had a good report of you,” she said shyly. “You are not like your cousin, or so ‘tis said.”
“No, we are vastly different men. Or were, or whatever the comparison should be.” He smiled at her, wondering what was on her mind.
She joined him, and he was aware of being sized up again, of her inspecting him from top to toe. “Well, do I pass?” he couldn’t resist asking. Her gasp of indignation made him chuckle. “You were looking at me as though you anticipated adding me to your stables.”
“Never that,” she riposted. “I should never attempt to select a horse. I would end with a stable full of pretty steeds, all most likely with horrid faults.”
“I rather doubt that, my lady. Indeed, I do.”
“But I would select your beast, I think. He looks quite handsome.”
They settled into a casual chat about horses until they reached the division between the Stafford property and the Harcourt estates. Here they halted again, with Lady Ariel giving Jordan a quizzical look.
“I had the strange feeling that you wanted to talk to me about something. Was I wrong?” Jordan asked at long last, while wondering why it was that he felt such accord with this young woman. Could it be because she practiced no womanly wiles? Her directness, the serious light in her eyes seemed proof that she differed from the London belles.
The smile that had enchanted him earlier disappeared as she became solemn. “Yes, you surmised rightly. I wanted to caution you to be on your guard. I did not know your cousin well, but I feel strongly that his death was planned. Although he took chances, he was a first-rate rider, and I believe it was no accident that he was thrown from his horse. Whoever wished him dead may feel the same about you. We do not know, do we?” She turned in her saddle to give him a most earnest look.
“You are the second to have fears on those grounds. But I doubt very much that I have an enemy in this area. For that matter, I have no enemies in London, either. I’ve been a rather dull chap, I fear. No outraged husbands chase me; no shopkeepers dog my footsteps. No, I am one of those rarities—a just and proper man.” He spoke without boasting, instead feeling a little bit foolish to make such a statement. But he needed to reassure her. “I pay my bills and keep my distance from flirtatious wives.”
“Perhaps you need a dog for protection. Unless you already have a dog?” she inquired, a delightful twinkle in her lovely eyes.
“Not in the city. Couldn’t see a dog at the Albany—that is where I lived these past years since I left Oxford.” Seeing her confusion, he added, “It is a nice arrangement of chambers for gentlemen. Sixty-nine of us live there in decent comfort, but I wouldn’t like to keep a dog in the place. The country is the place for a dog.”
They proceeded to ride on at that point. After a few minutes she queried, “You truly intend to remain here?” Her question was asked without even a coy smile, much less the usual artifice and batting of eyelashes.
“For the foreseeable future. There is much to do here.” This was another query on his intentions. Perhaps he ought to make an announcement?
“I suspect you want to know what happened to your predecessor as well. Am I not right? I know I should want to find out all I could.”
He chose not to answer that remark.
When they came in sight of the groom, Jordan saluted the man to let him know he was observed and that Jordan now turned her ladyship over to his care.
“I expect I shall see you at services on Sunday.”
He answered her politely, “Indeed, how could I miss a sermon from the estimable Mr. Lytton?”
“I hope you paid not the slightest attention to the nonsense he spouted whilst taking tea with us yesterday?” She had turned again to face him, pausing.
She spoke casually, yet Jordan wondered if there wasn’t a message in those words as well. “I have no interest in a wife at the moment. Perhaps in a few years when I am more settled?”
She laughed at him then. “Lucky you. You are allowed to choose a wife while I must take what I am given. You have no cause to complain, sirrah!”
Jordan watched her ride toward her home, a jaunty set to her shoulders. Was it a pose? Did he hear a wistful note in her voice when she pretended to chide him?
His return to the Hall was thoughtful, and he was relieved to see Mr. Shirley awaiting him as he rode into the stable yard. His own thoughts had not been pleasant. It would be good to listen to someone else for a time.
He turned his mount over to Peachum, then walked to the house with Mr. Shirley. When they reached the comfortable confines of the library, Mr. Shirley set down the neat stack of account books he had carried and turned to face Jordan.
“You had an agreeable ride this morning, my lord?”
Jordan studied his steward. “I did.” After a pause, he continued with deliberation, “It seems that you are not alone in thinking there was something strange about my cousin’s demise. Lady Ariel begged me take caution. She fears that whoever took Ivor’s life might take mine as well. She failed to offer any motive, however.”
There was a brief silence during which Mr. Shirley digested Jordan’s words, then expressed agreement with her.
“She thinks I ought to get a dog,” Jordan muttered as he gestured to a chair comfortably close to the desk. He lounged on his own chair, rubbing his chin while he considered the suggestion.
“Not a puppy, then, but a dog able to guard you well?” Shirley suggested.
“You realize all this talk is almost enough to send me back to London and my chambers at the Albany.” Jordan plucked the topmost of the account books from the pile.
Mr. Shirley gave him a dismayed look, and Jordan grimaced. “I said almost. I’ll remain, but it will be the dickens to feel as though I must look over my shoulder every other minute when I am out and about.”
“You would not be compromised. It seems your cousin was not so finicky. As I mentioned before, rumor has it he compromised Lady Ariel into the engagement.”
Jordan stiffened. He might feel comfortable with Mr. Shirley, but he had never liked gossiping. “That I know nothing about. The lady did not see fit to confide in me.”
That ended the discussion, and they turned to the accounts of the estate. Within thirty minutes Jordan came to realize he had a gifted steward, one he would be a fool to lose.
By the time Percy joined them to partake of a luncheon Simnel had conjured for their enjoyment, he’d had enough of accounts and books. “Why do we all not take a ride over the estate? Shirley can show me what he thinks needs improving, and I can agree.”
Mr. Shirley looked abashed at this sign of confidence in his abilities. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”
“Harcourt. Call me Harcourt. I daresay you have as much right to it as anyone, considering your family.”
“As you wish.” Mr. Shirley tried not to smile and failed.
“Percy, how was your morning? I trust you had no one telling you that you had best mind your back lest someone do you in?” At his friend’s amazed expression, Jordan explained what had occurred while on his ride, as well as what Mr. Shirley had revealed. He concluded with Lady Ariel’s advice. “She thinks I ought to get a dog.”
“A large brute with sharp teeth, a good sense of smell and keen hearing. He should be able to attack an intruder and know friend from foe,” Percy said quite seriously.
“Oh, good heavens,” Jordan said in disgust, tossing his napkin on the table, his pigeon pie forgotten. “If you keep on, I shall be inclined for the Albany!”
“But think of the challenge if you remain,” Mr. Shirley murmured.
Jordan paused to give him a considering look. “I just hope it is not a dead end.”
Chapter Three
“What is that?” Jordan asked, as Percy half carried, half dragged what had to be the ugliest dog in the world into the library.
“Purebred bloodhound, that’s what. Peachum told me as how he knew a fellow who breeds them, and I was able to pick this one up for a song.”
“What song did you sing? Something about wrinkles?” Jordan eyed the dog with misgivings. He suspected Percy had brought a surprise for him that he was not going to like in the least.
“He is the perfect dog for you! He will bark if someone comes near you, and be able to detect strangers, and if you get lost, he will find you in a trice.” Percy placed the young dog on the wood floor of the library, then stood back to admire his purchase. The dog sat quietly, head cocked as though in question.
Percy looked so proud of himself that Jordan didn’t have the heart to tell him that under no circumstances did he desire that ugly-looking mutt—purebred or not. The animal gazed up at Jordan with sad eyes, quite as though he knew just how unattractive he was and how Jordan didn’t want him. It was too much. Jordan gave up without a battle.
“Very well, I’ll give him a try.” The dog, caramel brown with a black saddle, long floppy ears, droopy eyes, deep wrinkles in his face and a few elsewhere, walked to where Jordan stood, sniffed his boots and promptly sat down on his feet.
“He’ll be fine once he gets to know you,” Percy said eagerly.
Jordan looked down at the not-quite-full-grown dog and sighed. “I believe he already does.” The dog, deciding that he had found a master, settled on Jordan’s beautifully shined boots and dropped his head to the floor.
“I found him a collar and lead so you can take him with you in the curricle whenever you go out.” Percy produced straps of black leather, likely made at the local village saddlery shop.
Jordan extracted his feet from beneath the hound and walked over to stand by Percy. “Mere words cannot express my feelings adequately, old chap.”
Percy blushed slightly red in his face and turned his attention to the bloodhound. “Think nothing of it. I thought you ought to have some sort of protection. What will you name it?”
