For the second day in a row, Lady Sophia had left the breakfast room as he entered, ushering her sister ahead of her. She had been closeted somewhere with other ladies of the party for most of the morning, and she had eaten lunch at a table with a gaggle of her friends. James amended the word. Gaggle was unfair; one of the many things he liked about Sophia was that she did not honk and gabble like the silly geese who had beleaguered him since he attended his first Society event months ago.
Surely, English maidens did not believe that total ignorance made them attractive? Her friend Lady de Courtenay seemed a sensible woman, he liked Miss Baumann, who was clearly the reason Mr. Halévy was here, and Miss Matilda Grenford was quietly charming. But if Lady Ashbury had a thought beyond fashion, her looks, and her own consequence, he had seen no sign of it, Miss Jessica Grenford and her friends appeared to have nothing in their heads but feathers, and Miss Miranda de Courtenay was a minx playing with fire, who would be burned if her brother did not rein her in.
At least Lady Sophia was not spending all of her time with the elegant Lord Jonathan Grenford, although he was in her orbit far too often for James’s comfort. They were old friends, he told James over billiards one evening and then subjected James to a series of searching questions about his intentions, disclaiming any romantic interest in Lady Sophia when James retaliated with a few questions of his own.
As the lunch party broke up, James tried to follow Sophia, but first Lord de Courtenay stopped him to ask a question about shipping in the Mediterranean, then Miss Jessica begged him to escort her to the drawing room for a cup of tea, and when he eluded her, the Earl of Muth took him to one side to assure him of his support. Muth, apparently, disliked Haverford and was in favour of anything that Haverford was against.
Eventually, he managed to escape outside. He visited Seistan first and checked that the stallion was warm and well cared for. The gentleman of the party might talk scathingly about his horse’s long back, narrow head, and small hard hooves, might question the bi-colour eyes and the metallic sheen of the coat, but the grooms knew quality when they saw it. Bellowes, the stable master, his admiration of the horse overcoming any reservations about the owner, questioned James eagerly about Seistan’s speed and stamina.
“These fellows are bred for both,” James told him. “Manoeuvrability, too.” He found himself demonstrating in the stable yard, riding Seistan bareback without bridle or halter as they went flawlessly through a series of figures.
They had most of the stable boys as audience by the time James brought Seistan to a rearing halt in front of Bellowes, who removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to say, “You can ride, sure enough, my lord.”
Several stable boys jostled for the privilege of tending to the horse, and James gave Seistan the word to accept the services of the two Bellowes selected. Seistan went willingly, expecting to be fussed over and rewarded for a flawless performance.
As they led him in through the stable doors, a shadow detached itself from the interior and strolled out into the thin winter sunlight.
“Clever horse,” the Marquis of Aldridge said. “Knows quite a few tricks.”
“He does, yes.” James smiled. He had selected Seistan from the herd himself when the colt was still at his mother’s heel.
Bellowes pulled some threads of tobacco from a pocket and tamped it into the bowl of his pipe, carefully avoiding looking at either aristocrat.
“Even how to limp when you tell him.” Aldridge shot a look at James through raised brows.
James pursed his lips. Now what? He could not in honesty deny the charge, though he could refuse to answer.
Bellowes straightened from his slouch against the stable wall. “I’d best keep an eye on the boys, my lords. Looks like a few days’ more rest will put that horse of yours back on his feet again, Lord Elfingham. And so I will tell anyone that asks.”
“Thank you, Bellowes.” James inclined his head to the stable master, who bowed to him and to Aldridge and strode off into the stables.
“Corrupting my stable master, are you?” Aldridge sounded amused. “I acquit you of nefarious intent, Elfingham. You are here a’courting, and a man might be forgiven for being inventive in such a case.”
James tipped his head to acknowledge the point. “I mean no harm to the lady in question, or to the duchess and her guests. I give you my word on that.”
“There is betting at the clubs about which lady you will choose: Felicity Belvoir or your cousin Charlotte Winderfield, who is your grandfather’s choice, they say.”
James eyes widened, but he managed to control any other reaction. “Fools with too much time on their hands,” he suggested.
“Yes. Fools indeed. It is Sophia Belvoir, of course.”
James smiled a little, tipping his head again.
“You do not seem to be making progress,” the marquis observed. “She has been avoiding you.” He waited, but James said nothing. “She has heard about the wager in the clubs. I suspect she means to save her sister from your wiles.”
“Her sister is at no risk,” James hissed.
“And Lady Charlotte?”
James glared at his tormenter. “Is my courtship your business, my lord? Your father and mine are not friends.”
Aldridge dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “I am not asking on my father’s behalf, nor do I make enemies at his command. I don’t ask for your friendship, Elfingham, but I am willing to offer mine.”
“Why?” The English rushed negotiations by the standards that James had been raised to, but that was an abrupt question even for them.
Aldridge regarded him for a long moment then heaved a sigh. “Shall we say fellow feeling? I know what it is to be invisible to the lady who has attracted one’s regard. In your case, the solution is simple. Tell the lady that you are courting her and only her.”
If this strategy contained a trap, James could not see it. “And in your own case?”
Aldridge took his time to answer. “Let me just say that I have my own reasons for wanting friendship between our families… and for not promoting your grandfather’s scheme for your marriage.”
“My grandfather is doomed to disappointment.” Could it be true? James thought back to ballrooms during the Season, where he propped up a pillar watching Lady Sophia while Aldridge did likewise from across the room, watching… “Charlotte? I take it your intentions towards my cousin…”
Aldridge smiled, wistfully. “My damnable reputation. I seek a wife, not a mistress, if that is what you are delicately not asking. But the lady is not interested, I fear.”
“Not in anyone, or so she told my grandfather when he announced his scheme, and so she has repeated to me on more than one occasion. But you have not abandoned hope, it seems?”
“Talk to Sophia, Elfingham. At least remove the lies between you.”
“I will,” James decided. “If I can catch her away from your oh, so charming brother.”
James wandered back through the gardens. He had wanted to see them since he and Seistan arrived three days ago. They spread for acres around the house, island after island after island, each planted in a different style and connected to its neighbours by ornamental bridges in dozens of different shapes and forms.
Used as he was to his dry mountains, James had thought gardening on the flat would be boring, but water made all the difference. Even in winter, with many of the beds sleeping under a carpet of mulch, these islands were a feast for the eyes, and he could see the first green shoots peeping out of the soil in some sheltered beds: an early promise of spring.
He noticed the approach of the woman from several islands away, the pastel dress under her pale outer coat marking her as one of the younger ladies. Alone, too, which did not bode well. When she turned off the direct path towards him, crossing to another series of islands, he castigated himself for a conceited popinjay. His relief was short-lived, however, for she soon turned back towards the island he currently occupied.
He contemplated taking the direct route to the house before she arrived, or even retreating to the stables, but he balked at fleeing.
Moments later, he recognised the fair face under the warm hood. Lady Felicity. What did she want? For he was her destination, that was certain. She was close enough now for him to see the smile of welcome. If caution urged him not to be caught alone with one of these English maidens, curiosity demanded that he hear the sister of his beloved.
“Lady Felicity, should you be out in the gardens alone?” he asked as she drew near.
She frowned. “Are you not pleased to see me, Lord Elfingham?”
That sounded ominous. Surely Lady Felicity had not fallen into the same error as the London fribbles? He had shown her no special courtesies or attention, and besides, she was barely out of the schoolroom.
James narrowed his eyes, the elder brother glare coming naturally to the eldest of ten. “What are you up to, young lady?” he asked.
Felicity giggled. “You do that so much better than Hythe. All those brothers and sisters, I suppose.”
Despite himself, James felt one corner of his mouth twitch as he suppressed a grin. “You have not answered my question, Lady Felicity.”
“You are not my brother yet, Lord Elfingham,” the impertinent child answered, “and I probably will not answer your questions even when you are. I am quite old enough to be married, you know.”
James grinned. If he interpreted that correctly, not only did she not want him for herself, she supported his courtship. “You are, I do not doubt, a great trouble to your brother, Lady Felicity. He could do with reinforcements.”
“I think you should call me Felicity, and I will call you Elfingham,” she announced. “I expect us to be great friends.”
“Call me James. I barely know who this Elfingham is. Besides,” he shrugged, “I do not expect to hold that title for long.”
“Oh, dear. Do you think the Lords will declare against you, then?” Felicity creased her brow in consternation. “That will make things more difficult, James. I think Sophia will not care, but Hythe is very proper.”
James choked back a laugh. So much for English ladies being kept ignorant! “No, Felicity. I do not think the Lords will declare against my father. My father has… Well, never mind. But I expect the Privileges Committee to confirm me as my father’s heir, and my children after me.” He sobered. “And I expect my father to be duke within the month, making me the Earl of Sutton.”
“Is your grandfather so sick then?”
James nodded. Only the duke’s own sour stubbornness kept him alive.
Felicity said, “So what does your father have? No, don’t tell me. I expect I can guess. He has documents? And witnesses, perhaps?” James must have shown some reaction, for she laughed and clapped her hands with delight. “He does! But why do you not say? Hythe would not oppose you if he knew…”
“Felicity, you must say nothing of what you suspect. If there were witnesses, and I am not saying there are, those who oppose my father might…” How could James tell such a sheltered lady the lengths to which his father’s enemies might go when a witness needed to be silenced?
Once again, Felicity leaped to the correct conclusion. “They might threaten the witnesses, or bribe them, or even hurt them. I shall say nothing, James. Word of a Belvoir. Except… I could tell Sophia?”
“Nothing, Felicity. I will tell your sister myself.”
He left the topic. Felicity would stay silent, or she would not. He would make sure the guard on the gentleman in Kent was doubled, however. For the moment, though, he would turn the conversation in a direction more to his liking.
“Do you favour me for your sister, then, Felicity? Does Lady Sophia favour me?”
Felicity met that remark with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Sophia is as silly as Hythe. They both think you must be courting me because they are convinced that Sophia is on the shelf. I expect once she realises you prefer her to me, she will be quite pleased. After all, you are pleasant to look at, and rich, and will be a duke one day. And she would make an excellent duchess, I think.”
“I think so too,” James said. Felicity’s assessment was not much to his liking. Quite pleased? He would prefer a little more enthusiasm!
Felicity looked doubtful, too. “You do like her, do you not? It is not just that she is a Belvoir?”
“Your sister is a fine, noble, clever, generous, and warm-hearted woman, Felicity. I like her a great deal.”
“That’s good, but you will need to convince her, James. And she will be reluctant to take the chance a third time, especially after that scoundrel Berringer… You have undoubtedly heard?”
When James had first heard hints on the gossip, he had questioned Aunt Grace, who had told him about both of Lady Sophia’s ill-fated betrothals.
“The man absconded with another lady just three days before the wedding,” he said to Felicity. “A fool, as well as a scoundrel, if he were unable to see the treasure he so nearly had in his keeping. His ill fortune is my gain, Felicity.”
Did Felicity know that the other lady was the fool’s long-time mistress? James wondered if Lady Sophia considered herself fortunate not to end up with a husband who loved another woman. Certainly, she deserved better.
Felicity’s thoughts must have been tracking with his, for she asked, “Do you keep a mistress, James?”
“Felicity! You cannot go asking men such a question!”
“How am I to know, then? I did not know about Berringer’s mistress until after he ran off with her.” Felicity screwed up her mouth and nodded decisively. “Mind you, James, I was only fifteen. But you could be as big a rakehell as the Marquis of Aldridge, and I dare say no one would tell me.”
James fixed her with the stern look that sometimes worked on his sisters. “It seems you have ways of finding out anyway, Felicity.”
“I cannot help it if people gossip when I happen to be near enough to hear,” Felicity said, trying for a composed dignity that was somewhat marred by her blush. “One cannot believe everything people say. Why, Lord Aldridge is made out to be the devil incarnate and as dangerous as the Duke of Richport—and no maiden is safe within five miles of him—but Lord Aldridge has always been courteous to me, and he is accepted in all the best drawing rooms, which Richport is not. So, I do not know the truth, James. To hear the stories, your father kept a harem, and each of you has a different mother…” She drew back a little, paling. “I did not say I believed them, James.”
James composed his face and forced his voice to calm. “Do not listen to gossip, Felicity. Little of it is true. My father had but one wife, who was mother to us all. And no, I do not have a mistress. Nor shall I. I shall make my vows to one woman and keep them for a lifetime, as my father did.”
Felicity nodded. “I believe you, and that is why I came outside to tell you that Sophia is on her own in the second parlour, making preparations for tonight’s costume party. Do you not think it is time you made it clear that you are courting her?”
James grinned, the irritation at the scandalous rumours disappearing at the prospect of a private interview with his beloved. On an impulse, he bent and gave Felicity a brotherly peck on the cheek.
“You are an impertinent child, but I rather like you,” he told her.
“I foresee you will be even bossier than Hythe,” Felicity replied, “but I rather like you, too. Now hurry, James.”
“Come along, then,” James said, offering her an arm, “for leave you alone in the garden I shall not. You are safe with me, Felicity, but do not go off on your own with gentlemen who are not your brothers, I beg of you.”