Baroness in Buckskin (13 page)

“Surely he can’t wish to remain your steward forever,” she pointed out.

“Why the dev—why the deuce shouldn’t he?” demanded Richard, taken aback by this hitherto unconsidered possibility. “He is well paid and, being a member of the family, he has a degree of freedom he would be unlikely to find in anyone else’s employ.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that he might seek a position elsewhere,” she objected. “But he is young and ambitious, and—and sooner or later, he will want a broader scope for his talents.”

He regarded her in utter bewilderment. “What do you know of his ambitions, let alone his talents? Why, you’ve hardly known him a se’ennight!”

Susannah, realizing by now that she was the recipient of confidences to which Richard had not been privy, hastily demurred. “No, but—well, he seems to be very intelligent, and—”

“Oh, he is,” Richard readily concurred. “That is why I should hate to lose him.”

“But he wants—that is, he may wish to be the master of his own establishment someday,” she persisted. “I thought perhaps you might, I don’t know, settle something on him that would allow him to marry well.”

Richard’s eyebrows all but disappeared into his hairline. “Give him a
dowry
, you mean, like a bride? My dear girl, he would be insulted at the very suggestion!”

“Yes,” she said, acknowledging the truth of this assertion with a sigh. “Yes, I suppose he would, wouldn’t he?”

“But enough about Peter. Tell me, what do you think of this painting? I think you may find its subject strangely familiar.”

He steered her toward a sixteenth-century likeness, somewhat faded with age, of a young woman whose long, slender neck rose with elegant grace from the stiff folds of her wide ruff. Her hair was dark, but the serene smile, straight nose, and the twinkle in the grey eyes were instantly recognizable.

“Oh!” Susannah exclaimed, allowing herself to be distracted from the delicate subject of Peter’s future. “She looks just like Cousin Jane!”

“I have always thought so.”

Richard’s expression softened as he regarded the familiar features, and Susannah, seeing this unconscious reaction, was emboldened to voice the question that had puzzled her since she’d watched her cousins waltzing together.

“Cousin Richard, I was just wondering—”

“Yes?” prompted when she broke off. “What is it?”

“You may think it impertinent of me to ask,” she cautioned him, reluctant to commit another such
faux pas
as she had obviously made concerning Peter.

“Nonsense! You may ask me anything you like, and I will do my best to give you an answer.”

“Very well, then. When I saw you and Cousin Jane waltzing, it occurred to me to wonder why the two of you have never married.”

He stiffened and might have given her a stinging set-down, had he not just assured her of his willingness to answer any question she might care to ask. And in this case, it was perhaps best to make a clean breast of the matter, lest she hear of it from some other source and ascribe his silence to some entirely erroneous cause. Yes, it was better to make a full confession and put the issue to rest; it was, after all, ancient history.

“As a matter of fact, I made her an offer of marriage almost ten years ago, which she very politely declined.”

“Really?” Wide blue eyes regarded him curiously.

“Her father had just died, and she was left virtually penniless. I considered it my duty to offer her the protection of my name.”

Susannah sniffed in disdain. “If you said
that
to her, I don’t wonder she turned you down!”

“I said something very similar in my letter to you, and you accepted me!” he retorted, goaded into discourtesy.

“Yes, but—but that was different.” Her gaze shifted away from his, to drift down the passage toward the fourth Baron Ramsay.

“How so?”

“I had been left all alone, much like Cousin Jane, but far from being penniless, I was heiress to a con-siderable fortune, according to Papa’s lawyer. He urged me to marry as quickly as possible, but all the can-didates for my hand—not that there were all that many of them, for we didn’t get out much—were far more interested in my inheritance than they were in me. Then your letter came, and I figured that even if you turned out to be perfectly beastly, at least you wouldn’t be marrying me only for my fortune. And sure enough, you turned out to be not beastly at all—well, except for that first night, and I’ve quite forgiven you for that.”

“My dear Susannah, such praise! You unman me!”

She giggled. “Well, you did ask!”

“So I did.” He took her arm and led her further down the gallery, echoing with a sigh, “So I did.”

These violent delights have violent ends.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,
Romeo and Juliet

The following morning, Susannah sat alone in the drawing room, taking advantage of the light streaming through its tall east-facing windows to illuminate her work as she effected repairs to her borrowed gown. She was halfway finished with the last of the two long side seams, and had just inserted the needle into the fabric for the next stitch when the sound of a gentleman clearing his throat startled her, and she jabbed the point into her thumb. Pressing the offended digit to her mouth, she looked up and saw Richard hovering in the doorway, looking more like an unwelcome visitor than the lord of the manor.

“Susannah, have you a moment? I should like to speak to you, if I may.”

His obvious discomfort communicated itself to her, and the fingers of her uninjured hand closed on the pile of figured muslin in her lap. “Of course, Richard.”

“Yes, well.” He crossed the room with measured steps, and seated himself on the edge of the wing chair facing hers. “I think it is time we set a date for this marriage. I thought perhaps three weeks from Thursday, if that is agreeable to you.”

“So—so soon?” Her hands jerked convulsively, and the borrowed gown slid from her lap to pool in a heap at her feet.

“Can you think of any compelling reason to wait? The sooner we are wed, the sooner your rather precarious position is settled.”

“There is that,” she admitted, casting a furtive glance at her thumb to make sure the bleeding had stopped.

“By setting the date for three weeks hence, we should be able to hold the ball in a fortnight, and the wedding a week after. Tell me, would you prefer it to take place here at Ramsay Hall, or at the church in the village?”

“A ball in a church?” exclaimed Susannah, scandalized.

“Not the ball,” Richard said with some asperity. “The wedding.”

“Oh. That.” She fixed her gaze on the hands in her lap. “I have no preference one way or the other.”

“Well then, if it is all the same to you, I think we should marry in church.”

“Very well.”

“Will you want Jane to stand up with you, or would you prefer a bridesmaid nearer your own age? The vicar has two daughters who might serve the purpose, as well as a visiting niece from the West Indies who is rumored to be a considerable heiress. The two of you might find you have a lot in common.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I think I should prefer Jane to a stranger.”

“Very well. I expect Peter will attend me, so we shall be a family party.” He shifted on the edge of his seat. “That only leaves the matter of the wedding trip. Should you like to spend a few weeks in Paris, or would you prefer a longer trip to Rome?”

“Weeks?”

He nodded. “Or months, if we sail to Italy.”

So taken aback was Susannah by the proposed length of such a trip that she forgot, at least for the nonce, its primary purpose. “Surely you cannot wish to be away from your estate for so long!”

“My dear Susannah, even after the honeymoon we will not remain in the country all the year ’round. I am accustomed to spending every spring and autumn in London, while Parliament is in session. As my wife, you will of course accompany me on those occasions, so we might as well begin as we mean to go on.”

“But what about the spring planting, and the autumn harvest?”

He shrugged. “Peter will see to it, as always.” Seeing she was not convinced, he added, “The estate could not be in better hands, I assure you.”

Of this, at least, she had no doubt. Still, it seemed wrong of Richard to burden Peter with the entire running of the estate while the two of them went gadding about on the Continent. “In that case, I should like to see Paris, if you please,” she decided, although her selection owed more to the shorter duration of such a trip than to the glory of Versailles or the medieval splendour of Notre Dame.

“As you wish. I shall speak to the vicar about the arrangements for the wedding.” He rose from his chair, bobbed a self-conscious little bow, and left the room.

Alone once more, Susannah stared blindly down at the gown on the drawing room floor as if wondering how it had come to be there—wondering, indeed, how
she
had come to be there. Left alone in the world after the death of her father, Richard’s letter had seemed a godsend; in fact, there had been something terribly romantic about the idea of crossing the ocean to marry a wealthy and aristocratic stranger. Now that a date for the union had been set, however, her approaching marriage was no longer a vague idea. Now it was
real
in a way it had not been before.

And what did you expect? she scolded herself mentally. It’s a marriage, not a public execution. Women do it every day.

Still, she was thankful for the sewing that demanded her attention and, eventually, was able to set the last few stitches with fingers that hardly shook at all. Having completed this task, she knotted the seam, snipped the thread, and left the room with the repaired gown draped over her arm.

“Ah, Miss Ramsay,” the butler addressed her as she crossed the hall, proffering a folded paper. “A message just came for you from Madame Lavert.”

She took the paper, opened it, and scanned the brief missive. “Madame says the first of my new dresses will be delivered tomorrow.” She glanced at the gown hanging over her arm. “I suppose I can return this one to Jane. Will you see that it is laundered?”

“May I suggest that you keep it to wear today, and return it to Miss Hawthorne upon the morrow? If you will permit me, miss, I will take it to the laundry maid; daresay it will need ironing after its, er, adventures. ”

“Yes, thank you.” She surrendered the garment to the butler. “I don’t
think
it has any bloodstains on it, but will you ask her to look and make sure?”

The butler raised his eyebrows but made no reply before bearing the dress away with a dignity befitting the crown jewels.

Susannah gazed regretfully at the great curving staircase. Her experience in the stables had been sufficient to inform her that the narrow-skirted gowns she would be expected to wear every day would be just as unsuited for sliding down the banister as they would be for riding. With a sigh of regret for what might have been, she looked down at the note in her hands.

It was here that Peter found her a moment later, when he emerged from his office and saw at once from her troubled expression that something was not right.

“Susannah? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Oh, no!” Her smile was much too bright, and too fixed, to be genuine. “A date has been set for the wedding.”

He frowned at the paper in her hand. “And Richard saw fit to inform you of it in a letter? Is that the best he could do?”

“No, of course not! This is from Madame Lavert. She says some of my new clothes will be delivered tomorrow.”

“I see. Forgive me, cousin, but most females of my acquaintance would be over the moon at the prospect of a whole new wardrobe, instead of looking as if they’d just lost their last friend.”

“Oh, it isn’t that, it’s just—” She cast a longing glance at the staircase. “I suppose now I’ll never slide down the banister.”

“In that case, you’d best do it now, before your new finery arrives.”

Her expression lightened at once, and she started for the foot of the stairs. “I suppose you’re right. Let’s go, then, shall we?”

Peter’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “Who, me?”

“You said you’d always wanted to,” she reminded him. “Besides, I won’t do it without you.”

He should not; he knew he should not. And yet, surely seeing the bleak look vanish from her face was worth a temporary loss of dignity. “Very well, then,” he said, conceding defeat. “Lead on!”

Susannah needed no further urging. She scampered up the stairs, with Peter following close behind. When she reached the top, she turned to her co-conspirator. “Will you go first, or shall I?”

“After you,” he said, indicating the polished oak banister with a sweep of one arm.

Grinning broadly, Susannah braced herself on the railing with one hand, then hitched up her skirts with the other and swung her leg over, seating herself astride the banister with her back facing the hall below. “Ready . . . set . . .”

“Go!” they said in unison, and she pushed off.

Peter, watching from the top of the stairs, was treated to the spectacle of flying hair and flapping skirts as she rounded the curve of the stairs on her descent. Her flight was finally halted by the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, and she dismounted and raised a beaming face to his.

“Oh, that was wonderful! You’ll love it, Peter, I know you will!”

Ruthlessly silencing the voice in his head that argued for propriety, Peter followed Susannah’s example and swung his leg over the banister—a much easier task for him than it had been for his cousin, as he was unhindered by skirts. A moment later he was sailing downward, pleasurably aware of the floor rushing up at him, the breeze created by his descent as it ruffled his hair, and the young woman beaming at him from below. He had almost reached her when a noise from above drew his attention, and he looked up to discover in some dismay his rapidly shrinking employer staring at him in horrified fascination from the top of the stairs.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” demanded Richard, just as Peter bumped into the newel post, bringing his descent to an abrupt halt.