The Dashing Miss Fairchild (22 page)

"I suspect he has one of his men keeping a watch on your house,” Mr. Talbot said to Clare.

"If that is the case, Lady Millsham had best stay inside for the time being. He may possibly have put two and two together, deducing that the child I shelter here belongs to Lady Millsham. Of course he cannot prove that the baby is in actuality the true earl, but we dare not take any chances."

This statement required a full explanation for Mrs. Robottom, who was further scandalized by the actions of the dastardly earl. They agreed to consider the matter at length, then meet on the morrow to discuss it again.

"We must not be foolish, nor underestimate the mad desires of this man. If he is desperate, he may do dangerous things.” Mrs. Robottom nodded her head, the puce plumes on her bonnet quivering with her efforts.

Lady Millsham begged to be excused to return to her baby. Clare smiled, her eyes wistful as she watched the young mother hurry up the stairs, then she joined her guests in the stroll down to the front door. Mr. Talbot lingered, and Mrs. Robottom gave him a sly glance before her departure.

"You do have a way of putting me to the blush, sir,” scolded Clare after the door closed behind the older lady.

"I wanted to talk with you, and I did not wish that old prattlebox to listen."

"She has been helpful,” Clare reminded.

"If it were not for her rattling tongue, you doubtless would not be in this fix today.” He studied Clare a moment, then added, “I wished to see if you will go riding with me in the morning."

"I do not have my horse here, and besides, ought you be doing something so strenuous?” Clare longed to have a good dashing ride along the gently rolling hills that surrounded Bath.

"You have a riding habit with you?"

Clare nodded reluctantly. “I do, for I hoped to find a decent mount while here. I have not had the time."

"Be ready in the morning, about nine if that is agreeable. I fancy you are out of bed by that hour?” He stared down at her with that wicked gleam dancing in his eyes once again. It made Clare feel all trembly inside.

A genuine smile lit her face for the first time in days. “I should like that above all things.” She wouldn't ask if his arm was well enough, for it seemed to vex him. “I may only trust you will not do something exceedingly foolish."

"Oh, I daresay I shall before we are done."

With that enigmatic remark, he was out of the house and down Brock Street.

Clare ran to the study window to watch him, noting how straight was his carriage, and what a jaunty step he had. One would never know he had been subjected to a nasty wound that must still plague him. If Lord Millsham saw Mr. Talbot, it would annoy him greatly to see his man had missed. If indeed that had been his intent.

Clare was not convinced. Nothing in this entire business made one whit of sense, which further served to persuade her that they were dealing with someone who was not quite right in his upper story.

When Venetia returned looking pink-cheeked and flustered, Clare was too preoccupied to quiz her about the reason for Susan's message. She concentrated on the ride tomorrow with Mr. Talbot, all thoughts of perilous matters far from her mind. A call to Priddy was followed by a search for her blue riding habit.

On Milsom Street, Mr. Talbot paused before the window of the premier milliner in Bath, surveying a dashing top hat with a gauzy veil, most suitable for riding. He entered the shop and money exchanged hands, with the assurance that the hat would be delivered to the lady at the Royal Crescent promptly. Satisfied, he left the little shop, continuing on his way until he espied Miss Oliver parading toward him with young Lord Adrian Grove at her side. The two were totally engrossed in each other, and scarcely aware of the maid who dogged their footsteps.

He stopped before them, intruding on their world with a hearty good day.

"How lovely to see you, Mr. Talbot.” Miss Oliver beamed up at him with great goodwill. Even the young man beside her seemed not to mind they were interrupted.

After a few minutes of general chatter, Mr. Talbot inquired of Miss Oliver, “I trust you completed your business with Miss Godwin? She passed me all aflutter on her way back to the Royal Crescent."

Miss Oliver gave him a blank look. “Miss Godwin, sir? I fear I have not seen that lady in days."

"Odd. Perhaps I misunderstood.” But Richard knew full well he had heard correctly. And it made him exceedingly curious. He bowed most elegantly to the young couple, then sauntered down Milsom Street, his mind occupied with thoughts of tomorrow morning's ride. He stopped in a gun shop, after a number of inquiries as to the location, to inspect the merchandise. He had no intention of facing the following day unprepared or at a disadvantage.

Clare surveyed her dark blue velvet riding habit with satisfaction. Although not new, it fit her well and was frightfully comfortable. It had military frogging marching down the front of the jacket and clever little epaulets on her shoulders. At last she plucked the very dashing top hat from its box and stood a moment admiring the beautiful creation. The veil swirled about in enticing abandon.

"Dear Clare,” Venetia exclaimed as she poked her head around the door. “A new hat? I must say it is vastly becoming, although a shade daring for someone your age."

"Amazing how well it goes with my habit,” Clare replied before thinking.

"Did you not select it for just that reason?” Venetia inquired, her eyes narrowing.

"Of course,'’ Clare said hastily. “But I did not have my habit along when the hat was purchased. One never knows,” she concluded obscurely. Clare wondered how Mr. Talbot knew her taste so precisely. She ought not accept such a gift from him. Indeed, it was scandalous that she allow it. But one look at the smart hat set in place on her blond curls, and she was beyond hope.

"Are you going riding alone, with just your groom along?” Venetia asked while studying Clare's sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks.

Clare gathered up her gloves and crop after adjusting her habit shirt one last time. The collar was wont to go askew, and that would never do when she was riding with Mr. Talbot. Without examining her reasons, she wished to look her very best for him.

"Actually, Mr. Talbot has asked me to ride this morning. He sent a note that he has found an acceptable mount for me. I vow it seems an age since I last rode out.” Pausing at the head of the stairs, she added, “I am remiss in not inviting you to accompany us, but I recall you said that riding gives you the megrims."

The vexed expression sitting on Venetia's pretty face fled as she ruefully nodded. “True. I shall go for a stroll, I believe. Perhaps I shall see Miss Oliver."

Clare again paused, this time part way down the stairs. Looking back at Venetia, she frowned. “Did you not call on her yesterday?"

"Oh, yes, so I did.” Venetia's agitation was slight, but noticeable to Clare, who knew her guest well by now.

When she joined Mr. Talbot before the house on the Royal Crescent, she was pleased to see a sleek chestnut with fine lines.

"La, sir, you have an excellent eye.” She permitted him to toss her up on her horse, settled herself in the saddle, and gathered the reins in her gloved hands. “How good it is. The air is fresh, and I believe these horses wish themselves gone."

With a gay laugh, she signaled her horse to proceed. Mr. Talbot joined her.

The curtains in the study twitched, Venetia checking to see which way the riders went, then fell into place. Shortly the door opened, and Venetia skimmed along Brock Street, down Gay Street to Queens Square, where she rapped sharply on the door of one of the more elegant homes. In moments she was let inside.

Once beyond the confines of the cobbled streets of Bath, Clare and Mr. Talbot cantered along until they reached a pleasant knoll with a view of the city. Sunlight dappled the gray stone buildings, picking out the abbey and several sites Clare recognized.

"Such a lovely day,'’ Clare exclaimed, feeling at peace with the world. She reined in her horse, then turned to face her companion. “I have not properly thanked you for my hat, sir. I fancy it is highly improper for you to give me such a thing, but I confess I quite adore your gift.” She peeked at him, her eyes shining with happiness.

Casting his gaze about them, Mr. Talbot replied, all graciousness, “I am pleased you like it, for when I saw the hat, I knew it was you."

Provoked he paid more attention to the scenery, Clare was about to complain, then thought better of it. After such a handsome gesture, he was entitled to appreciate whatever he wished. Perhaps the hat was Mr. Talbot's way of repaying her for her care of him. Although the accident need not have happened if he had remained in Bath instead of tagging along in spite of her cautions.

"At any rate,” she continued, ignoring the lack of attention, “I believe it goes quite well with my habit. Indeed Miss Godwin thought I had ordered it."

"You saw her this morning before you left?"

"Yes. She usually sleeps in, but this morning she joined me at breakfast. Perhaps she had plans to see Miss Oliver again."

"I happened to meet Miss Oliver and Lord Adrian on Milsom Street just after I purchased that handsome hat. When I asked Miss Oliver if she had successfully concluded her business with Miss Godwin, she declared she hadn't seen the woman in days. What do you make of that bit of news?"

"That is rather strange conduct.” Clare nudged her horse and the two jogged comfortably along the ridge, weaving in and out of trees to capture a bit of shade, for the day was growing warm. “I wonder what my dear guest is up to, with all her devious behavior. Do you suppose she is having a clandestine affair? And she so proper.” Clare exchanged an amused smile with Mr. Talbot.

"If it is nothing more than that, I should be glad. I have a number of suspicions about Miss Godwin, none of them, I fear, good."

"You are not alone there, my friend,” Clare began, about to reveal the reservations she had collected over the past days, when Mr. Talbot drew a pistol from his coat and fired toward the stone ridge. A bullet whipped past him about the same time.

"What?” Clare cried, terror piercing her.

Mr. Talbot didn't answer her, rather dashed off in a gallop up the hill and over the ridge. Clare nudged her horse, tearing after him, her heart in her throat, fearing for his life.

At the top of the ridge, she slid from her horse and took cover behind a large boulder, peering over it to scan the fields below. Trees dotted the area, and a rough lane cut across where she could make out two figures. Stepping forward, she could see it was Mr. Talbot in hot pursuit of whoever it was who had shot at them. Him, actually. Her hat was safe. Perhaps, she mused as she used a handy rock to assist her return to the saddle, the man was a connoisseur of bonnets and hers had not met with his approval.

By the time she reached the foot of the lane, she found Mr. Talbot waiting for her, a look of pure disgust on his face. “I have the feeling he eluded you."

"Fellow rode like the wind. Hadn't a hope of catching the man. What is worse, I fear I could not get a good look at him, so there is no hope of identification."

They rode back to the house on Royal Crescent discussing the attack, deciding not to reveal it to Lady Millsham, poor dear. She endured quite enough grief without adding to it.

"I must thank you for the ride, sir, not to mention the hat. It was most, ah, eventful. The ride, that is,” Clare said, giving him a worried look after sliding from her horse into his arms while Bennison held the horses, a task that he obviously deemed beneath him.

"One can only wonder what the fellow is about.” He studied Clare a moment, then continued, “We must do this again ... without the fireworks, one would hope.” He bestowed one of his gleaming looks on her that made her heart beat rather more quickly.

"I vow I shall never accuse Bath of dullness. One only wonders what will happen next,” Clare said, waving at him before entering the house.

He remounted then ambled toward the stables.

Venetia lay in wait for Clare as she entered the house. At least that is what it seemed to Clare when she surveyed her companion where she stood in the center of the hall. Venetia peered out the door before closing it, apparently taking note of the retreating horses and the figure atop one of them before turning back to Clare.

How much of a companion Venetia had proved to be was slightly beyond Clare at the moment. It seemed as though they saw little enough of one another. Clare decided that once the present trials were over, she would suggest her guest visit somewhere else.

"La, dear Clare, you are home. No ruined hat?” Venetia said archly.

"No.'’ Clare glanced up the stairs to determine whether Lady Millsham might be within hearing. “We had a delightful outing. Frightfully lovely morning. Really, my dear, you ought to take it up, riding, that is. I understand it does wonders for the complexion.” Darting a glance at Venetia, Clare could see that slender figure stiffen. The number of bottles and jars of lotions and creams on Miss Godwin's dressing table bore testimony to her reliance on them rather than healthful exercise.

In a faltering voice, Venetia said, “Nothing happened? How ... how fortunate."

Pausing in her ascent to her room, Clare glanced back to see Venetia biting her lip. In vexation, no doubt, flashed through Clare's mind. Just why did Venetia believe something uncommon had occurred during Clare's morning ride?

Sounds of the baby crying drifted down from upstairs. Clare smiled, knowing Lady Millsham would be at his side in seconds, so devoted was she.

"When is she to leave, Clare?” demanded Venetia in a petulant voice. “That baby is giving me the megrims.” She entered Clare's bedroom behind her, without so much as an invitation.

"Do come in, Venetia,” Clare said, knowing her irony would be lost on the woman. Clare tossed her whip on the bed, then carefully removed her lovely new riding hat, placing it back into the pretty chintz-covered hatbox it came in yesterday, gently tucking the filmy veil in about it. “You well know that Lady Millsham will remain here as long as needful."