A Love Laid Bare (29 page)

Mary tipped up her nose, sniffed several times, and
smiled. It was the first sincere smile Frances had seen on her face
today. Something was wrong and Frances wished the other woman felt
able to confide in her.

“Most pleasant,” Mary said. “I’m sure the garden
appreciated the lengthy rain as well. Everything will be growing
like mad, especially the plants we don’t want. ” She looked at
Frances. “Have you done anything in your own garden since you
returned?”

Frances let out a resigned sigh. “Nothing at all, I’m
afraid. I did peek in and saw that Fuller has kept after the weeds,
but I’ve done little else.” She had, in the early weeks of her
marriage, and with minimal success, attempted to recreate the
garden at Clifftop in a small walled area behind the manor house.
“I will get to it eventually.”

“In your spare time,” Mary said dryly, but amusement
glinted in her eyes.

“Having so much of it,” Frances said with a laugh,
pleased to see Mary’s countenance brighten.

“Oh, there is Jim with the gig. I’m afraid I must
go.” Frances shook Mary’s hand and then impulsively gave her a hug.
“Please let me help you,” she whispered. “If there is anything at
all I can do, I will gladly do it.” She stepped back, knowing that
Mrs. Norton hovered in the open doorway, listening to every word.
“Thank you for having me. I hope you can come to the Manor very
soon.”

Mary smiled faintly, but her eyes were clouded and
the quiet “I will try” was no more than a meaningless polite
response.

Frances hurried along the walk to the drive where Jim
stood with the gig. She felt very concerned for her friend who,
while never a vivacious woman, used to be more spirited than the
listless creature Frances had spent the past hour with. It was
impossible to have a private conversation with Mary’s cross-looking
companion always about. Was the woman even a true companion? She
did not appear to be but for some reason, Mary never sent her away.
It was a mystery and one Frances intended to solve some day in the
near future.

She turned to gaze at the passing landscape, so
different from the coastal area where she grew up. The road wound
in gentle curves over the rolling hills, the green fields a neat
patchwork of squares edged with tall hedges. The scent of the first
flowers of the season, bursting from the hedgerows, filled the air.
Frances sighed with contentment at the delightful aroma and raised
her face to the sun. Her fair skin burned easily, but a few minutes
would do no harm. She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth on her
cheeks. This afternoon she and Flora would go for a walk. And
perhaps visit the stables to watch the foals’ antics.

Reluctantly, but knowing her limitations, she lowered
her head and returned her attention to the passing countryside.
There were other people out enjoying the day. On the road ahead, an
open carriage moved ponderously up the hill they were approaching.
Near the top, two people on horseback had stopped in front of a
copse that sheltered a small stream. Perhaps to water the horses,
Frances mused, incurious, her mind on the various tasks she planned
to take care of today. Her own vehicle would branch off soon, in
any case.

It was not until Jim turned the gig onto the side
road leading to the Manor that Frances realized that one of the
riders was her husband. She swiveled around, craning her neck to
catch another glimpse of them. Yes, it
was
Richard and
unless she was suffering from eyestrain, the woman with him was
Lady Merton.

Bile rose in her throat and a sudden chill infused
her body.
It means nothing. It is possible they met by chance.
Don’t make a fool of yourself and jump to conclusions.
Frances
sat rigid for the remaining part of the journey home. After all
that passed between them last night, she could not believe he had
made an assignation with his former mistress. She
refused
to
believe it.

By the time Frances started up the Manor’s broad
front steps, she had determined she would wait to see if Richard
mentioned his encounter with this woman who, after all, was a
neighbor. And if he did not?
You will damn well ask him,
Frances, and not allow it to irritate like a boil growing under
your skin.
She might even use it as an opportunity to tell the
earl she knew of his liaison with the woman.
Might
. It was
not something she really wanted to discuss.

“You have callers, my lady,” Benson said when Frances
stepped inside. “Mr. Jensen and a Mr. and Mrs. Cooper are waiting
in the library.” He cleared his throat with a slight cough. “The
small drawing room is being painted today, if you remember,” he
added at her inquiring look.

Frances removed her gloves and hat and gave them to
the butler. “I see. Have you ordered any refreshments, Benson?”

“Yes, madam. Some beer for the gentlemen and lemonade
for Mrs. Cooper, as well as an assortment of sweets.”

“Thank you. Please inform them I am arrived home and
will join them shortly.” She glanced at her skirt which, other than
a trace of dust from the roads, was passable enough. It was not
necessary to change her clothes, then, but she wanted to wash and
attend to her personal needs before she greeted unexpected guests.
She supposed the Coopers were also members of Lady Merton’s house
party. What had brought them here, and without their hostess?
Frances set the thought aside, gathered her skirts in one hand and
hurried to her chambers. Speculation was generally fruitless and
she would know soon enough.

Joan was already there, mending a flounce on one of
Frances’ gowns. A closer examination showed Frances she was more
disheveled-looking than she had expected, so she took the time to
change her dress. She chose one of butter-yellow muslin,
embroidered at neck and hem with tiny blue flowers and a trail of
green leaves. Very spring-like, she thought, checking her
appearance in the cheval mirror. The sun had tinted her cheeks with
a becoming pink, her hair was drawn smoothly into a knot on the top
of her head, and the loose tendrils at her temples flattered. She
would do. A light wool shawl of pale green completed the ensemble
and Frances grinned at her image. One might think the Queen herself
was come to call instead of people she hardly knew. Although
pleased with her efforts, and the resulting self-confidence, the
impromptu visit gave Frances pause. It was likely she had met the
couple at Lady Merton’s recent dinner party, but she had no
recollection of it. Why hadn’t Victoria accompanied her guests, as
she should have? Frances glanced at her reflection one last time
and shrugged. Perhaps if she stopped primping and went to greet
them, she would get her answer.

Paul Jensen masked his impatience, although this wait
for Lady Halcombe to arrive home seemed interminable. Why today, of
all days, did the woman choose to make calls? He knew her daily
habits well and social excursions were usually not one of them.

The countess probably acted for the same reason
Victoria had insisted on a visit to Halcombe Manor this morning
without the least bit of warning for her guests—because women are
capricious and unreasonable, he groused silently. With half of his
attention on the conversation between the Coopers, and the other
half on trying to read the book titles on the nearest bookshelf,
Jensen stood the instant he heard the door open.
Finally
.

He reached his hostess before she had completely
stepped over the threshold. “Lady Halcombe. A pleasure to see you
again.” He smiled and bowed over her hand. She looked …delectable,
he decided. Her cheeks were tinged with colour, her hair was
artfully arranged, and she was clad in a becoming gown that showed
off her figure to advantage. The lady looked good enough to taste.
Not for the first time, he regretted that he was unable to extend
his visit. He would very much have enjoyed a seduction.

“I hope you will forgive us for imposing upon you so
unexpectedly. Since Lady Merton had business to conduct with Lord
Halcombe, I took advantage of the opportunity to allow my friends a
look at your beautiful library.”

“It is no imposition at all,” Lady Halcombe said,
quickly freeing her hand with a graceful movement, but there was a
friendly look in her eyes. Encouraged, Jensen cupped her elbow and
walked with her to where the Coopers stood waiting.

“My lady, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Cooper? They
are fellow guests of Lady Merton’s. Mrs. Cooper is her cousin.”
Jensen turned to the other gentleman and swept his arm through the
air with an understated flourish. “And Mr. Cooper is an Oxford
Scholar. As such, I felt strongly that he would appreciate your
marvelous collection.”

Jensen released his hostess, aware he was talking too
fast and too much. This visit was a critical part of his plans. He
had
to gain access to the Manor library. He forced his
posture into one of casual interest and watched her ladyship’s face
for any sign of annoyance, but she greeted her guests with every
indication of welcome.

Lady Halcombe bent her head and smiled. “Did we meet
at Lady Merton’s dinner party? If so, do forgive my wretched
memory.”

“Just in passing, my lady,” Mrs. Cooper said somewhat
shyly, and bowed. “We had no opportunity to converse.”

“Then we shall use this quieter time to further our
acquaintance,” Lady Halcombe said. “Do you plan a long stay?”

“A few more days and then we must get back to Oxford.
We are fortunate Lady Merton shares her home with us from time to
time so that we can enjoy a country holiday.”

“This part of Sussex is a beautiful area,
particularly at this time of year.” Lady Halcombe turned her smile
on Mr. Cooper. “It is nice to meet you both,” she said, shaking his
hand. “Please, be seated and tell me something of your field of
study. I’ve sent for a fresh batch of lemonade to cool us on this
surprisingly warm day.”

She sat on a sofa opposite the Coopers and looked at
Jensen. “Might we persuade you gentlemen into taking some
lemonade?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Unless, of course,
you feel it too much a ladies drink.”

“I can’t speak for Cooper, but I am not averse to
having a glass of something other than beer now and then,” Jensen
said. He was tempted to sit beside her, but the sofa was small and
such proximity might be unwelcome. A position to the side, where he
could see her face more clearly, was better and he pulled a chair
closer to the group.

They were interrupted by the entrance of the butler
and a footman and the next few minutes were taken up with the
serving of lemonade for all. A plate of biscuits accompanied the
beverage and it was not until everyone had a glass in hand that the
conversation resumed.

“Joseph is too modest to tell you that he took high
honours in the classical studies,” Jensen said.

“Indeed? Then you are enamoured of the old languages,
Mr. Cooper?” Lady Halcombe asked with a bright look of interest. “I
myself confess to a liking for Latin. It seems a very comprehensive
language to me.”

Cooper’s grin transformed his somewhat commonplace
features into an expression of liveliness. “I’m not sure enamoured
is the correct word. Besotted is more accurate, as Mrs. Cooper will
surely attest. I prefer it to Greek, although the two seem to go
together when it comes to classical studies.” He waved a hand to
indicate the surrounding volumes. “I could not refrain from
examining your collection, my lady, and must say I am greatly
impressed.”

“Not especially mine, sir, as most of what you see
was collected by generations of the family. The majority of my own
books are stored elsewhere. Eventually, I will blend the
collections. I suspect there are some duplicates to ferret out and
either sell or donate to a library.”

Jensen straightened. That sounded a very open
statement. Did Halcombe know then of his wife’s involvement with
the book trade? Did she plan to continue it?

“Oxford would be delighted to be the recipient, I’m
sure,” Mrs. Cooper chimed in and they all laughed.

“I will keep it in mind, Mrs. Cooper,” Lady Halcombe
said with mock sincerity as she joined in the ensuing laughter.

Jensen paid scant attention to the conversation that
followed, once again attempting to unobtrusively examine the room.
The cases of shallow drawers were the most promising as they
undoubtedly held maps, drawings and over-sized prints. But would
the previous earl have left something as valuable as the Legacy
Folio stored so accessibly? No, more likely it would be locked
away. Perhaps the Manor had a muniments room.

Jensen leaned forward with a diffident smile, and
addressed his hostess. “Joseph is much too polite to ask you
permission to return here for a long browse, my lady.”

“Oh, I say,” Cooper began, flushing.

Lady Halcombe tilted her head in question. “If you
have the time, you are welcome to come again, sir. I cannot promise
a social visit, but if you don’t mind browsing alone…?”

Cooper shook his head with enthusiasm. “Not at all.
We will be here for several days yet. I would like to come.” He
glanced at his wife, then back to Lady Halcombe. “Caroline will
probably come as well, if you don’t mind. She is no mean scholar
herself, although she seldom admits to so unladylike
interests.”

“Joseph!”

Lady Halcombe laughed. “Your secret is safe with me,
Mrs. Cooper. I am guilty of scholarship myself.”

“Indeed, Caroline, I have been told that Lady
Halcombe is quite the bluestocking.” Lady Merton flowed into the
room on Lord Halcombe’s arm in a possessive manner not lost on his
wife.

Or so it appeared to Jensen. Fleeting as it was, the
faint look of dismay in Lady Halcombe’s eyes and the almost
imperceptible tightness around her mouth did not indicate approval
of Victoria’s presumption. In truth, judging from Halcombe’s
expression, he did not appear any too happy either. But then, his
lordship’s countenance was never especially congenial at any
time.