A Reformed Rake (25 page)

The conversation continued until it was time to go upstairs and dress. Only Lord and Lady Crawford were going out—which was felt to be an advantage since the rest could enjoy a quiet evening
en famille,
unbothered by Cressy’s poisoned tongue.

Cressy’s good mood of the afternoon lasted on into the evening. She and her husband enjoyed the opera, and she didn’t feel one pang of regret that it was an evening in which she’d couldn’t even watch others at
their
gambling. All in all, it had been a very good day.

Had it been a good day for her son...
?

Where had that thought come from? Cressy tripped on the stairs and grabbed for the bannister to save herself from a bad fall. Crawford’s hand was firm on her elbow as they continued down and out of the Opera House.

“You nearly fell,” said Lord Crawford as they left the brilliantly lit building. “Are you all right?”

She cast him a startled glance. “It was nothing. I just wondered...”

“Wondered?”

Cressy drew in a deep breath. Staring straight ahead she asked, “Have you had more news from Nanny?”

“The boy has had a slight cold.”

“Cold?
He has a cold
?”

Lord Crawford looked speculatively at his wife. “I don’t feel it is anything about which we need worry. If I’d felt otherwise, I would have told you, my dear.”

“But...” She bit her lip, ducked her head and turned it slightly away from him.

“But you
are
worried, are you not?” He silently helped her into their carriage and followed her in although it had been his intention to go on to his club. “It is not something of which you need be ashamed, you know,” he teased. She didn’t respond. “How worried are you?” he asked when the coachman started forward.

A mild frown creased her brow. “My lord, are you certain...”

His eyes narrowed. “How can one be certain, my dear? Childhood is a chancy thing. One can but do one’s best and pray.”

“Pray...”

Another silence stretched. Finally, quietly, he asked, “You are my son’s mother, Cressida. What is it that you wish?”

“I...” The boy’s mother.
I am his mother,
she thought and remembered how sweet the baby had smelled when brought to her by the hovering and suspicious nanny who trusted no one but herself with the boy. She remembered how the infant had snuggled warmly against her, his tiny hand, a starfish shape against her gown. “His mother...”

“Shall we go home, Cressy?” asked Crawford softly.

Home. Home to the child who might love her ... if she were very careful. Might. Love. Her.

“Oh God yes, please let my child love me,” she whispered so softly his lordship strained to hear.

Crawford had realized early in their relationship that Cressy was starved for love, but he’d also realized she’d so little experience of it she wouldn’t recognize it if it were offered to her. A wise man, he’d planned his assault on her emotions carefully. His combination of firm control and an even-handed justice along with humor where appropriate and the occasional show of mild affection had seemed to be succeeding with her. Now, at this moment when she appeared vulnerable and appealing, he must be very careful indeed. He must not allow her sudden softening to lead him into error.

“Shall we go home, Cressy?” he repeated.

“Home?”

What is home, she wondered.
Where my son is,
answered something deep in her mind. She mulled that over before responding.

“Yes,” she said. “I would, I think, like to go home...”

“Then, as soon as I finish my business in town, we will go.”

Crawford hid his satisfaction with her response. The idiotic woman would, if she thought she were pleasing him, very likely change her mind and refuse to go. Perverse woman!

Thirteen

“What would you think of taking a picnic to Richmond,” asked Elizabeth the morning after Harriet had been a great success at Lady Cowper’s musical.

It had been an emotionally exhausting performance for the pianist and now she sat at the breakfast table, a trifle bleary-eyed, with Françoise and Elizabeth. Frani immediately and enthusiastically endorsed the notion.

“You do not say anything, Harriet. Do you not think a picnic in Richmond park a delightful notion?”

Before Harriet could form a response, Robert, who had just entered the room did so. “Delightful,” he agreed with a touch of sarcasm. “Just the place for a lovely little kidnapping, think you not? Don’t be foolish, my love. Jauntings of that nature where one is in the open in a public place where anyone might go are not to be thought of.”

Harriet nodded. “I was about to say much the same thing, Elizabeth. Françoise, do not pout. It makes you look the very infant that you insisted to me only last evening you are not.”

Frani’s frown disappeared with a chuckle. “You! You always make me laugh. It is not fair, I think, that you can do that and I cannot.”

“It was such a good notion,” said Elizabeth, a speculative look warning her husband to pay attention, “I suppose that an evening at Vauxhall is not to be thought of for much the same reason?”

“For exactly the same reason,” he said, his voice stern. “Even if we were to attend one of the masquerades, which is what I had in mind, and all were to go masked?”

“When have you ever attended a masquerade and not guessed immediately those who are your particular friends?” he promptly asked.

“But the comte is no one’s friend!”

“No, and I don’t doubt he’d have difficulty discovering which minx was which. So,” he added when Elizabeth would have interrupted, “very likely he’d run off with the both of you.”

Elizabeth looked disconcerted. “Oh dear.”

“
Mais non!
It must not be. You must not find yourself in danger because of me. Me, I say it is so,” insisted Françoise.

“Well, I agree it is very uncomfortable to be kidnapped,” said Elizabeth, “and I do not think I would care for it to happen again, so perhaps we’ll postpone plans to go to Vauxhall.”

Françoise immediately demanded to know when her hostess had found herself the captive of another and listened avidly to the whole story of how Elizabeth had wished to befriend Sir Frederick, and Sir Frederick had determined to marry her. “But now we are all very good friends just as I wished,” Elizabeth finished. She turned to Robert. “But, my lord, if we may not ride out to Richmond and may not go to Vauxhall, what may we do?”

Lord Crawford strolled in in time to hear that last. “I must assume you object to Richmond because it is open to the public?” he asked Robert. “I have a small property not far from London on the banks of the Thames. Perhaps a party might go there. It is not public, and my people may be warned to watch for strangers. It has very nice gardens and a strawberry patch famous throughout the region that should be coming into fruit about now. Would that be an acceptable substitute for Richmond, my lady?” he asked turning to Elizabeth.

“I think it sounds unexceptional.” She looked to Robert, a wide-eyed hopeful look that had him chuckling as he gave permission.

“I fear I cannot join you on this expedition,” Crawford continued. “Cressida and I will be returning home tomorrow—which means you and I must have a discussion concerning my granddaughter, Lord Halford.” Robert agreed, gravely, that such was indeed necessary. Lord Crawford went on to Elizabeth, “I will send a letter to the house steward at River Castle that he is to be prepared for you whenever you may wish to come.” He bent a thoughtful look on Françoise. “I shall tell him to hire extra groundsmen as added protection.” Then he spoke directly to his granddaughter. “My child, this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you, but you might like to pay the property special attention. I’ve given you a life interest in it, you see.” Françoise stammered thank-yous at the same time Elizabeth questioned why her company was leaving so suddenly.

“Elizabeth!” scolded her husband. “It is rude to ask!” She blushed when everyone chuckled. “But I don’t understand, and I wish to do so. I thought it was decided they’d stay until the beginning of next week.”

“Cressida made the decision last night ... I think you’ll find she’s content to go.” When Lord Crawford noted Robert’s eyebrows rising he added, “We miss our son and wish to see for ourselves how he goes on.”

A sardonic look crossed Robert’s features, but he held his tongue. Elizabeth was not so well-schooled in properly reticent behavior and words spewed from her. “Content? To leave London in the middle of the season? Because she wishes to see her son? Cressy? I don’t believe you!”

Crawford laughed. “It does sound a trifle havey-cavey, does it not? But you will see.”

They did see and were bemused by the interesting fact that it was true. Cressy
was
content to leave for the north at her husband’s side! But before they left, Lord Crawford had a long discussion with both Sir Frederick and his brother-in-law concerning Françoise. The girl would not be safe until the comte’s pursuit of her had come to an end, but they were agreed that the girl should remain in London for the season. If nothing were settled by its end, then she, her grandmother, and her companion were to be escorted under heavy guard to Crawford’s home in the north and new plans would be laid.

At some point something must be done about the comte. Sir Frederick suggested he be forced into a duel which would put period to his ambitions once and for all.

“I won’t say the notion has no merit, nephew,” said Lord Crawford, “But, for the moment, things can be allowed to drift as they are in the hopes the man will either give it up and go home or, alternately, put himself into a position from which he can be permanently but
legally
removed from my granddaughter’s life. We all wish her safe and secure, but a duel must be a last resort.” He glared at the other two and, reluctantly, they agreed. “Good,” said Lord Crawford and added unexpectedly, “Now that you are no longer my heir, Frederick, I find I like you very well. I’ve no desire to lose you to
that man’s
random but lucky shot—I am not wrong, am I, in assuming it would be you who would challenge him?”

The picnic at River Castle was postponed twice. Once it rained and then Harriet came down with what she considered a stupid chill. She suggested they go without her, but no one would have it so. Then, in a cross and invalidish way, she worried that no one could properly watch out for Françoise while she was confined to her room.

“Nonsense,” said Madame, who visited Harriet toward the end of her convalescence. “I myself have enjoyed going out among the English
ton
again. Imagine! There are still men and women whom I met at Versailles when I was only a girl. And,” she added a trifle tartly, “they talk of something other than the past, unlike Marie de Daunay! Me! I have had a very interesting time chaperoning our little package of trouble.” Her eyes twinkled. “I think it might be generous of you to remain ill for another day or two. The Dowager Lady Porrison holds a Venetian breakfast, and I wish to attend. She, too, visited France when we were young, and I believe she was enamored of the man I eventually married. At the time, I was most upset whenever he was polite to her.”

“And now you wish to gloat.”

“Would I do such a thing?” Harriet just looked at her mistress who chuckled. “You must remember, my dear, that when one reaches my age, there are not all that many pleasures left to one. If I gloat a trifle that I won the prize ... well!” She shrugged, an exceedingly graceful Gallic movement.

“Can you not go if I’ve left my chamber?”

“Of course, I may. I am teasing you, my child. And I can tell you one gentleman who will be exceedingly perturbed if you are to remain much longer above stairs. I would not put it past him to come up and see for himself that you are recovering.”

Harriet blushed. “If you refer to Sir Frederick, I could believe anything of that man.”

“Why will you not agree to marry him?” asked Madame curiously. “Do not answer,” she added, gently, “if you would rather not, but the marriage would be an excellent solution to your future since he assures me he is able to maintain you in a life of luxury and wishes to spend his life making you happy.”

“That,” said Harriet, “is the trouble right there. Happy. I am so happy when I am with him. I cannot believe how I feel, how wonderfully content to be in his company. And then,” she said, staring into the corner of the room, “I wonder how soon it will end. When will some other woman catch his eye, and when will he stray from my side to pursue her? I don’t think I could bear it, Madame,” she finished, her eyes filled with a pain caused by the mere anticipation of pain.

“My dear, are you not a trifle idealistic? Men stray. Even the very best of them will look and
wish
they were free to do more. Heavens, child, women do the same, do they not?” she asked rhetorically—which was just as well since Harriet could not have answered, such a notion never having occurred to her. “Your Frederick, of course, is of the breed who may or may not do more than look and wish, but if he strays, then I think you’ll never know of it.”

“Is that not worse? Never knowing? To never be certain? To always wonder ... won’t such constant suspicion come between us and cause unhappiness?”

Madame stood up and looked down her nose at her granddaughter’s companion. “You must come to your own conclusions, child. I think you do the man an injustice with your suspicions and your fears and your lack of trust in him, but I am not the one he wishes to wed so perhaps it is easier for me to look at the man with clear eyes.” She went to the door, and her hand on it, turned for a last word. “I will not drive out to this River Castle, so you will oblige me by regaining your usual good health by Friday. You may then join the party. Françoise is very excited at the thought of owning property—even if it is no more than a life interest. There is no keeping her back, I’m certain, no matter how much I’ll worry while you are all off on this injudicious jaunt.”

“You do not approve? It is to be, I believe, a rather large party.”

“A large party does not necessarily mean security.” Madame’s brows rose in polite arcs. “Can you promise me, for instance, that Frani will not take it into her head to indulge in an impromptu race which will carry her far from the main group of riders?”

Harriet bit her lip. “No. I can only promise that some of us will ride like the wind after her.”

“The men will watch her. You must not put
yourself
in danger, Harri. Frani will, if she so indulges, be chagrined she has broken all her promises to behave; if you were hurt because she’s done so, she would be heartbroken, so leave it to your escorts, my dear.”

“Perhaps we are making mountains, Madame,” suggested Harriet. “Perhaps she
will
behave.”

She did. Françoise rode sedately with the rest of the party out to River Castle. At last the group rode in between wrought-iron gates set into posts built like miniature, stylized, towers with crenelated tops. Tall rhododendrons lined the drive, which curved along the inside of the fence for a distance and then, turning, opened onto broad gardens which, from this point, went straight down to the river. Off to the side was the house. Everyone pulled up, leaving Françoise somewhat apart so that she had a good view.

The girl’s eyes widened. “But it is not a castle at all! It is ... I do not know what it is!”

“What it is,” said Robert, Lord Halford, in a bemused tone, “is a veritable jewel of a Gothic cottage! You are to be congratulated, Mademoiselle Françoise. Lord Crawford has given you one of the most perfect examples of the cottage
orne
I’ve been privileged to see.”

“It is so strange,” said a confused Frani.

Robert chuckled. “So it is. But that is exactly as it should be. The philosophy of such a cottage was that it intrigue and bemuse. Do you wish to explore?”

Françoise kicked the side of her mare and moved forward. “Oh yes. Do let us explore!”

As Frederick passed him, an erstwhile groundskeeper came out from the bushes and asked for a moment of the gentleman’s time. Frederick recognized the guard from when he and Robert had reconnoitered some days previously. He reined in and pulled over. “What is it, man? Has someone attempted to gain entry who is not on the list?”

“Your party is the first to arrive although I understand there are carriages to follow. My work would be easier if you were to go over this list here and tell me who has come. You all rode by so fast I couldn’t very well ask for names, now could I?”

“I’ll check the list.” Frederick scanned it. “I believe only two carriages follow. One carries these three women,” he said and pointed where he meant, “and the other Her Grace, Joanna, Duchess of Stornway. Both will have attendant riders, but the duchess knows the problem. If she does not object to the riders, you may safely allow them entry.”

“Very good, sir.” The man slid back into the shrubbery and disappeared while Sir Frederick, impatient to rejoin Harriet, rode on.

He found her seated on a bench in the shade of a rose-covered rustic and staring at the thatched-roof house. “Do you find it too grotesque?” he asked, making her jump. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” he added contritely.