match was already into its third chukker when
Gannon and the Carringtons arrived later in the afternoon. Various styles of open carriages lined the perimeter
of the field, filled with women holding delicate parasols
over their heads to ward off the summer sun while their
escorts studied the game. Today’s match was an intraclub
game between the Reds and the Blues. An occasional
Hurrah! broke out from the crowd as someone’s preferred
team scored a goal, but otherwise Gannon thought people
were more absorbed in their own conversations than they
were in the match.
During the three-minute intervals between chukkers,
some daring souls alit from their carriages and mingled. Gannon took advantage of the interval to seek out
the St. Clair phaeton. He found it almost immediately.
It was the conveyance surrounded with young men vying for Audrey’s attention. Apparently he wasn’t the
only one who found Audrey’s brand of beauty attractive. But he was the only who had carte blanche with
her mother.
Violet caught sight of him nearing the carriage and
gestured toward him with her closed fan, much the way
Gannon imagined Moses had raised his staff over the Red
Sea. The effect was the same. “Good afternoon, Camberly. Are you enjoying our American polo?” she called out. The people gathered around the carriage parted to
make way for the earl, a few of the younger men muttering under their breath.
Gannon approached and took Violet’s gloved hand,
bending over it gracefully. “I am enjoying the match
very much,” he replied. “This place is a delightful venue
for it.”
“Of course you’d like it,” Audrey put in. “It’s an old
farm” There was a conspiratorial gleam to her eyes that
Gannon took up at once. He bowed in her direction.
“You remember our conversation from dinner. I am flattered. Perhaps I could persuade you to show me about
the grounds-that is, unless the match is too riveting.”
Audrey seized on the invitation, gathering her skirts
about her and moving toward him. He was ready to help
her down. “I’d love to. Mother, we’ll be back shortly”
Gannon noticed she didn’t wait for Violet’s approval,
but the woman was smiling with supreme contentedness. “We’ll stay in sight, ma’am,” Gannon added, recalling Audrey’s warning from the prior night.
“This place is technically called Glen Farm,” Audrey
began as they strolled arm in arm. “It’s an old manor
farm that dates back to the 1600s. There’s nearly seven
hundred acres here.”
“It’s lovely,” Gannon said, meaning it.
“Is it like Camberly?” She turned her head toward
him, tilting it upward beneath her parasol.
“A little. Camberly is much larger. We have a home farm, a village, a church, fields, even a mill.” Gannon
couldn’t keep the edge of pride from his voice.
“Is it entirely self-sufficient?”
“Nearly so. At least it was,” Gannon conceded as they
neared a small pond, still within view of the polo field
but out of earshot. “Now, tell me your plan.”
Audrey found a large stone and sat down, taking care
to spread her skirts. She made a fetching picture in her
pale blue carriage dress and wide-brimmed hat, but it
seemed to Gannon that she took an inordinately long
time to begin.
“Before I start,” Audrey said, “are you willing to do
what it takes to see this plan succeed? There is a modicum of risk involved.”
“I am willing. You know I am.” Gannon smiled in
reassurance.
Audrey drew a deep breath. “All right. The problem,
as I see it, is that my parents want me married, preferably
to you or someone like you, and neither you nor I wish to
be married to each other or otherwise at this time. In addition, you need huge sums of money, true?”
Gannon nodded, although he was starting to think that
if he had to marry, he’d pick Audrey. She was beautiful,
witty, and plainspoken. He could fall in love with that.
He suspected he already was.
Gannon and the Carringtons arrived later in the afternoon. Various styles of open carriages lined the perimeter
of the field, filled with women holding delicate parasols
over their heads to ward off the summer sun while their
escorts studied the game. Today’s match was an intraclub
game between the Reds and the Blues. An occasional
Hurrah! broke out from the crowd as someone’s preferred
team scored a goal, but otherwise Gannon thought people
were more absorbed in their own conversations than they
were in the match.
During the three-minute intervals between chukkers,
some daring souls alit from their carriages and mingled. Gannon took advantage of the interval to seek out
the St. Clair phaeton. He found it almost immediately.
It was the conveyance surrounded with young men vying for Audrey’s attention. Apparently he wasn’t the
only one who found Audrey’s brand of beauty attractive. But he was the only who had carte blanche with
her mother.
Violet caught sight of him nearing the carriage and
gestured toward him with her closed fan, much the way
Gannon imagined Moses had raised his staff over the Red
Sea. The effect was the same. “Good afternoon, Camberly. Are you enjoying our American polo?” she called out. The people gathered around the carriage parted to
make way for the earl, a few of the younger men muttering under their breath.
Gannon approached and took Violet’s gloved hand,
bending over it gracefully. “I am enjoying the match
very much,” he replied. “This place is a delightful venue
for it.”
“Of course you’d like it,” Audrey put in. “It’s an old
farm” There was a conspiratorial gleam to her eyes that
Gannon took up at once. He bowed in her direction.
“You remember our conversation from dinner. I am flattered. Perhaps I could persuade you to show me about
the grounds-that is, unless the match is too riveting.”
Audrey seized on the invitation, gathering her skirts
about her and moving toward him. He was ready to help
her down. “I’d love to. Mother, we’ll be back shortly”
Gannon noticed she didn’t wait for Violet’s approval,
but the woman was smiling with supreme contentedness. “We’ll stay in sight, ma’am,” Gannon added, recalling Audrey’s warning from the prior night.
“This place is technically called Glen Farm,” Audrey
began as they strolled arm in arm. “It’s an old manor
farm that dates back to the 1600s. There’s nearly seven
hundred acres here.”
“It’s lovely,” Gannon said, meaning it.
“Is it like Camberly?” She turned her head toward
him, tilting it upward beneath her parasol.
“A little. Camberly is much larger. We have a home farm, a village, a church, fields, even a mill.” Gannon
couldn’t keep the edge of pride from his voice.
“Is it entirely self-sufficient?”
“Nearly so. At least it was,” Gannon conceded as they
neared a small pond, still within view of the polo field
but out of earshot. “Now, tell me your plan.”
Audrey found a large stone and sat down, taking care
to spread her skirts. She made a fetching picture in her
pale blue carriage dress and wide-brimmed hat, but it
seemed to Gannon that she took an inordinately long
time to begin.
“Before I start,” Audrey said, “are you willing to do
what it takes to see this plan succeed? There is a modicum of risk involved.”
“I am willing. You know I am.” Gannon smiled in
reassurance.
Audrey drew a deep breath. “All right. The problem,
as I see it, is that my parents want me married, preferably
to you or someone like you, and neither you nor I wish to
be married to each other or otherwise at this time. In addition, you need huge sums of money, true?”
Gannon nodded, although he was starting to think that
if he had to marry, he’d pick Audrey. She was beautiful,
witty, and plainspoken. He could fall in love with that.
He suspected he already was.
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