generous allowance for the upkeep of the estate. Throughout the years in exile, his father had found a way to send money.
Guy threw down his napkin and rose. There was much to do here, and the quicker the workmen and gardeners began, the better. He must get on with his life. He hoped the local society would prove good company. He needed to learn more about English ways.
The butler handed him his hat and gloves and assisted him into his coat. Guy walked out into fragile sunshine along the graveled lane to the stables. Perhaps his future wife was to be found here in the English countryside. He pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. The extraordinary happenings of the past few days troubled him, but when he tried to replay them in his mind, instead of the attack on his life, his mind returned to Simon. He gritted his teeth, which made his temple throb.
“ Zut!” he muttered, startling the groom who hurried to greet him.
With a sinking heart, Horatia spied her father’s carriage standing in front of the house. She rode straight to the stables where Simon rushed out to greet her. “We’ve been very worried, Miss Horatia.” He helped her down. “The storm was so wild we couldn’t look for you until this morning. Joseph and I went out at dawn; we’ve just got back.”
Horatia felt a stab of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Simon. Please thank Joseph. As you see The General and I are safe and sound. I had to spend the night in the old Fortescue hunting lodge when the weather turned nasty. How long has my father been home?”
“His carriage has just arrived. I’m so relieved you’re here. I was wracking my brains for a way to tell him.”
“Before you tend to the carriage horses, could you see to The General, please? He is very hungry.”
“At once, Miss Horatia.” He led the horse away.
At the relief on Simon’s face, prickles of shame climbed Horatia’s neck. She ran through the kitchen garden. Entering by the back door, she flew up the servants’ stairs and arrived at her bedchamber to hear her father’s voice in the hall below.
“Are you there, Horatia? Where is that girl? Doesn’t she wish to greet her father?”
Horatia rushed into her room and threw off the offending clothes, tucking them back into their hiding place in the clothespress. She glanced at her bed, which not been slept in. Sally would say nothing to give her away. Hastily buttoning her morning gown, she left the room. She hurried down the corridor, hearing her father’s purposeful tread on the stairs.
“Why does no one know where my daughter is? I have news. Horatia ?”
She met him on the landing. “Here I am, Father. What’s amiss? Did you have a good trip?”
“My trip was satisfactory. I’ve been home for fifteen minutes. Why did you not come to greet me? Have you been in your chamber all morning?” He sat his pince-nez on his nose to study her. Through them, his magnified grey eyes looked suspicious. “And I smell wood smoke! Have you had your fire lit again? I don’t like that unhealthy bloom in your cheeks.”
“I was reading.”
“Reading? I hope it’s not that fellow Byron’s poetry again. I’ve heard distressing rumors...oh well, never mind that. Why don’t you read Pope? Now’s there’s a poet. But I digress. We have been invited to dinner this Saturday evening!”
“How nice, Father, where?”
“Lady Kemble.” He beamed and tucked his thumbs into the plaid waistcoat that strained over his stomach. “I’m sure you’re as pleased as I am. She always puts on a magnificent dinner.”
“Yes, she does.”
He held up a finger. “Wait until I tell you all. Lady Kemble plans to invite Lord Fortescue to attend. The sixth baron, that is. At long last, he’s arriving from France to set his estates to rights.”
Horatia chewed her bottom lip. “I see.”
He rubbed his hands. “She plans to kill the fatted calf in his honour.”
She followed him down the stairs. “I’m not sure if
Guy threw down his napkin and rose. There was much to do here, and the quicker the workmen and gardeners began, the better. He must get on with his life. He hoped the local society would prove good company. He needed to learn more about English ways.
The butler handed him his hat and gloves and assisted him into his coat. Guy walked out into fragile sunshine along the graveled lane to the stables. Perhaps his future wife was to be found here in the English countryside. He pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. The extraordinary happenings of the past few days troubled him, but when he tried to replay them in his mind, instead of the attack on his life, his mind returned to Simon. He gritted his teeth, which made his temple throb.
“ Zut!” he muttered, startling the groom who hurried to greet him.
With a sinking heart, Horatia spied her father’s carriage standing in front of the house. She rode straight to the stables where Simon rushed out to greet her. “We’ve been very worried, Miss Horatia.” He helped her down. “The storm was so wild we couldn’t look for you until this morning. Joseph and I went out at dawn; we’ve just got back.”
Horatia felt a stab of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Simon. Please thank Joseph. As you see The General and I are safe and sound. I had to spend the night in the old Fortescue hunting lodge when the weather turned nasty. How long has my father been home?”
“His carriage has just arrived. I’m so relieved you’re here. I was wracking my brains for a way to tell him.”
“Before you tend to the carriage horses, could you see to The General, please? He is very hungry.”
“At once, Miss Horatia.” He led the horse away.
At the relief on Simon’s face, prickles of shame climbed Horatia’s neck. She ran through the kitchen garden. Entering by the back door, she flew up the servants’ stairs and arrived at her bedchamber to hear her father’s voice in the hall below.
“Are you there, Horatia? Where is that girl? Doesn’t she wish to greet her father?”
Horatia rushed into her room and threw off the offending clothes, tucking them back into their hiding place in the clothespress. She glanced at her bed, which not been slept in. Sally would say nothing to give her away. Hastily buttoning her morning gown, she left the room. She hurried down the corridor, hearing her father’s purposeful tread on the stairs.
“Why does no one know where my daughter is? I have news. Horatia ?”
She met him on the landing. “Here I am, Father. What’s amiss? Did you have a good trip?”
“My trip was satisfactory. I’ve been home for fifteen minutes. Why did you not come to greet me? Have you been in your chamber all morning?” He sat his pince-nez on his nose to study her. Through them, his magnified grey eyes looked suspicious. “And I smell wood smoke! Have you had your fire lit again? I don’t like that unhealthy bloom in your cheeks.”
“I was reading.”
“Reading? I hope it’s not that fellow Byron’s poetry again. I’ve heard distressing rumors...oh well, never mind that. Why don’t you read Pope? Now’s there’s a poet. But I digress. We have been invited to dinner this Saturday evening!”
“How nice, Father, where?”
“Lady Kemble.” He beamed and tucked his thumbs into the plaid waistcoat that strained over his stomach. “I’m sure you’re as pleased as I am. She always puts on a magnificent dinner.”
“Yes, she does.”
He held up a finger. “Wait until I tell you all. Lady Kemble plans to invite Lord Fortescue to attend. The sixth baron, that is. At long last, he’s arriving from France to set his estates to rights.”
Horatia chewed her bottom lip. “I see.”
He rubbed his hands. “She plans to kill the fatted calf in his honour.”
She followed him down the stairs. “I’m not sure if
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