The American Bride

chapter Five

"What will we do this morning, Miss Farraday? Can we swim again? Would you like to visit the Dorsett's farm and see the new piglets?"

Cara listened in amusement to Belin's ebullient chatter. Even at the early breakfast hour it was difficult to stem the child's flow of enthusiastic suggestions. Once Belin had come to terms with her own private devils her appetite for life had redoubled.

"Mrs. Clayton has told me that you have a beautiful doll collection, Belin," Cara remarked at the end of the meal.

"Oh, yes. It's ever so fine. My father used to bring me a new one every time he came back from London. There's big ones and little ones. I must have....lots," she finished breathlessly.

"I would very much like to see the dolls but I suppose you want to have time to get them ready to be presented," Cara suggested.

"Yes, it's true." Belin bit her lip, torn between impressing Miss Farraday and showing her the dolls immediately. "Some of them haven't had their hair brushed in ever such a long time."

"I have an idea, Belin. Richard and I have something to do this morning and that would give you time to get everything ready. I'm sure that Agnes would be happy to help you. Then after lunch, I could come and be properly introduced."

Belin turned the idea over in her mind. As Cara had hoped, the child accepted the plan and was eager to begin. The little girl left, badgering Agnes with demands for soap, water and brushes. Cara, with an unenthusiastic Richard in tow, marched outside, heading for the stables.

Although the boy stiffened when aware of their destination he did not refuse to accompany her.

Entering the stableyard Cara found Glum directing two of the young boys in saddling a black Arabian stallion. Richard flinched as the stallion snorted and pawed the packed earth but the plucky lad held his ground. The horse was beautiful, big but sleekly muscled. A deep chest indicated he would have reserves of stamina as well as speed. Glum waited while the horse was saddled then tipped his cap to Cara.

"Morning, Miss Farraday. Richard. Come see what we've got for ye."

His worn boots beat a steady tattoo on the oak floors as he led the girl and the reluctant boy to the last box in the line of stalls. Looking in over the door, Cara smiled in satisfaction at the spindly-legged colt inside.

"Thank you, Glum. I think he'll do nicely."

Doffing his cap, the old man nodded, avoiding looking at the glowering boy beside the young governess. Richard had been on his way to being a fine horseman until the unfortunate accident with his parents. The headgroom had talked to Miss Farraday and hoped her plan would work.

"Ye'll find everything ye need, Miss," Glum threw over his shoulder as he stumped back to his duties.

Eyeing the tensed boy, Cara nervously wrung her hands. She approached Richard, standing in front of him in silence until he was forced to raise his eyes to her face.

"Richard, can you keep a secret?"

"Maybe."

"I'm not sure just how to explain," Cara admitted. "You see in America I used to ride a great deal. But when my father got sick I didn't ride for a long time. I was busy taking care of him."

"Did he die?" Richard asked bluntly, curious in spite of himself.

"Yes, he did. I felt awfully bad at the time. I suppose you remember how you felt when your own parents died?"

"I didn't feel anything," the boy snapped, hostility written all over his face.

"I know what you mean," Cara purposely misunderstood. "I was numb at first too, but then I felt terrible. So I let a little more time go by when I didn't ride." She paused hoping she would see some encouragement from Richard but his eyes were downcast, staring at the toe of his boot. "At any rate I waited so long that now I'm afraid to ride again."

Cara held her breath as Richard's head snapped back, eyes wide, but before she could continue, all emotion was wiped from his face and he stared at her with expressionless eyes. Cara's heart sank, wondering if the plan she had worked out would founder stillborn. Sighing in sheer frustration, she plunged ahead.

"I talked to Glum, as he seems to know pretty much all you need to know about horses, and he said if I got used to being around horses again then I probably wouldn't be afraid anymore."

It seemed that the tension building inside the boy was becoming unbearable. He was shifting from foot to foot as Cara talked and now he waved his hands as though to push away her flow of words.

"What's the secret?" Richard snapped rudely.

"This." Cara opened the door of the stall so that Richard could see inside.

Standing amid the straw was a wobbly foal that backed up into the corner, staring at them with enormous brown eyes. His coat was still the downy fuzz of a newborn although he had been weaned. He was reddish-brown with four white stockings and a white blaze just above his right eye. Richard, who had been stiff with fear when Cara opened the box, sagged against the door at the sight of the trembling animal.

"He doesn't look so very fierce," Cara crooned holding out a tentative hand to touch the velvety nose. "Come on, you little beauty. I won't hurt you."

Cara entered the box cautiously, clucking and crooning to the shaking colt. His coat was satiny under her caressing hands and she could feel the jump of nervous muscles. Ignoring Richard, Cara murmured to the colt and was delighted to feel him steady under her fingers.

"What's his name, Miss Farraday?" Richard stood in the doorway, a longing to touch the animal etched plainly on his face.

"Glum says he hasn't got one. He said if I could think of a good one, that's what they would call him."

"It ought to be a real smasher," Richard whispered. "I think he's going to be a very special horse."

"I do too," Cara agreed. "Now you see my secret. If you could come over with me to the stables in the morning, no one would think that I was neglecting my duties."

"I see," said Richard, eyes lighting with appreciation of the plan. Then as though he were still reluctant, "I guess I could do that."

Cara spent a delightful hour grooming the colt as Richard lounged in the doorway. His eyes never left Cara, following every move she made. She never asked if he would like to help or to touch the animal but she noted the longing in his eyes.

"Well, I think that should do it for today. Do you know, Richard, my hands aren't shaking anymore." She held them out for his inspection then exclaimed at the amount of dirt on her hands and arms. "Could you close up the box while I locate some water?"

She walked down the line of stables to the trough. Unbuttoning the collar of her dress, she fanned her sweaty face with her handkerchief. Dipping it in the cold water she ran it around her neck and then, redampening it, washed her face. She made her ablutions slowly, pretending not to notice that it took Richard a long time to join her. As they left the stables, Cara waved gaily to Glum who was on the far side of the yard.

"It seems, Miss Farraday, I am forever finding you in the most unlikely of places."

Cara's head spun around at Lord Wilton's amused drawl. Under his piercing scrutiny Cara was aware of her appearance. An hour of physical labor in the close confines of the stable had done little to enhance her morning toilette. Perspiration seeped out from under her headdress and ran down her neck. Her dress was spotted where she had splashed water when she washed her face. In her frustration, Cara bid Julian a barely civil good morning.

"And Richard. What brings you over here? Not planning to ride to the hounds, I presume." Julian chuckled at his own humor.

The boy's face whitened and he clenched his fists at his side. Without speaking he turned and left them, walking as steadily as his tear-filled eyes would permit.

"You, sir, are an insensitive boor," Cara hissed, then as Richard disappeared from sight, she rounded on the thunderstruck Wilton and he met the full blast of her anger. "How could you have said that? You are the most arrogant, callous and cruel man it has ever been my displeasure to meet." With that Cara stormed off in the direction of the Hall.

Julian stood rooted to the dust of the stableyard. No man alive had ever had the temerity to speak to him in that tone of voice, let alone an outrageous little drab of a girl whom he could crush with one hand. His scar-split eyebrow stood out against the whiteness of his face and he plunged after Cara. As she reached the edge of the path his hand snaked out, grasping her arm and whirling her around to face him.

"You are hurting my arm, sir."

"May I remind you, Miss Farraday, that you are a governess here only with my blessing." Julian's voice was sharp-edged steel which went totally unheeded by the angry girl.

"I don't care if you do dismiss me," Cara spat out, jerking her arm out of his grip. "I'll have my say first."

The ferocity of Cara's verbal attack dumbfounded Julian. He towered over the tiny girl who glared up at him, hands on her hips and bosom rising and falling in her agitation. The color was high on her cheeks and her breathing came in gasps as if she had been running. In her defense of Richard she was oblivious to her own danger. Irrelevantly Julian noticed that Cara's anger gave her skin an almost opalescent sheen.

"How dare you criticize me. When I arrived here Belin was dressed and groomed worse than a beggar in the streets of London. And Richard was sullen and hurting because he believes that you hate him. A fine guardian you are, your Lordship," She made of his title a scathing indictment. "Well, you may be the lord of this hall or King of England for all I care but in my mind you are nothing but a bully." Cara's blue-green eyes filled with unwanted tears as she glared belligerently up at Julian. Her chin quivered with emotion but she flung her head back. "And I don't care if you do dismiss me. I shan't take a word back." Then before the stunned Julian could utter a word Cara flung herself down the path to the Hall.

The veins in his temples stood out in angry relief as he glared after the girl. He smacked his riding crop into the palm of his hand relishing the biting sting. He wished the girl were still within reach of his hands. How dare she speak to me so? he raged. He'd show her just what power he possessed in his own household. He clenched his jaws seeing again Cara's blue-green eyes blazing in contempt and her full lips set in a sneer.

"By God, I'll see her thrown out bag and baggage before this day is out," he growled.

Julian stormed back to the Hall, barging past the servants who scuttled out of the path of the angry man. He tore off his riding clothes and flung himself into the bath that his valet Craten had prepared for him. Despite the early hour he bellowed for a brandy and sat in the water sipping the heady spirits.

He should have known that no good would come of his marriage to an unknown American. And now look at the fix his, as yet unseen, wife and the interfering Duchess had gotten him into. They had foisted off on him an irresponsible, impertinent nobody who had the overpowering audacity to reproach him while she ate the very food he provided. He had been in his dotage when he permitted that miniature viper to set foot in his household. He dashed off the remainder of the brandy and thrust the snifter at Craten who hovered beside the tub.

A bully! Julian swore as he took an irreverent swallow of the fresh drink. She dared to stand there in front of him with her blue-green eyes blazing fire and call him a bully. What nerve! The saucy chit isn't much bigger than Belin, he growled. In fact, she had looked exactly like a child having a temper tantrum. At any minute she might have thrown herself at his feet, kicking and screaming. He chuckled at the picture that would have made. Suddenly, overcome by the humor of the entire situation, he threw his shaggy head back in a great whoop of laughter.

Tears formed in the corner of his brown eyes and Julian sank against the back of the tub restored to a more reasonable attitude.

The little nonentity of a governess was a refreshing change from the legion of jaded or coy beauties that he had been used to dealing with. No simpering miss, our Miss Farraday, Julian grinned. It was hard for him to imagine that he had once thought she was too young and inexperienced to take over the care of his wards. He should have noted the flashing blue-green eyes during her original interview and he might have offered her a far more interesting position in his household. He stirred uncomfortably in the water as his mind conjured up the petite body he had held in his arms and the lush mouth he had crushed against his own ravaging lips.

Remembering he was a married man, Julian tried to bring his thoughts back to a less lusty appraisal of the wench and consider the charges that she had leveled at him.

In all justice Julian had to admit that he had been a neglectful guardian. He had been traveling abroad when word had come to him of his brother's death. He had discovered the two children were already in residence at Weathersfield when he arrived home. Unaccustomed to the company of a three and a six year old, he had obtained a governess and then fled to the fleshpots of London, content that he had done his duty. On his infrequent trips to the country he had realized the children were doing poorly but had no solutions to the problem.

At three, Belin had been confined to the nursery for the first few years but when she emerged she was a filthy hellion to be avoided. When he came upon her on the estate she evinced some winning ways but still looked and acted like a little savage.

And Richard. At nine the child was a source of bafflement to Julian. He was morose and sullen. The only time that Julian had attempted to take an interest in the boy, the young cub had balked. He had tried to interest the boy in a horse of his own but the child had cringed away in terror, earning nothing but contempt from his guardian.

Julian sipped the brandy, savoring the sharp bite of the spirits on his tongue. Miss Farraday had had some justice in her words. It was obvious that her arrival had shaken the household that Julian had ignored for so long. He wondered if all Americans were like the little governess or if he had just had the unfortunate luck to find a troublesome specimen.

His bride was an American.

If Miss Farraday were any indication of the national character, his future life would be far from tranquil. Julian enjoyed the carefree life of a bachelor and was in no hurry to give up his pleasures for the restrictions of wedded bliss. Yet according to the Duchess' letter his bride had arrived in England. In less than a month he would be saddled with her and an end to his freewheeling life.

When his father had broached the proposal to him he had been surprised at the ease of his own acceptance. He had never given a great deal of thought to marriage. He knew he was expected to marry a girl of impeccable virtues and good bloodlines to carry on the name of his family. The identity of the girl had never mattered. His brushes with the annual line of simpering debutantes had left him with little enthusiasm for a courtship. Perhaps the very lack of a need to do the pretty had convinced him that marrying his father's choice would involve the least amount of discomfort. Others in his set had married and managed to rub along well. Shrugging, Julian decided that no matter what, he would just continue his life as it had always been. Marriage need not alter anything, he reasoned wisely.

For Cara the remainder of the day dragged along while she waited for the expected summons from Lord Wilton. She tried to enter into Belin's jubilant mood as the child paraded her carefully groomed dolls for Cara's appraisal. She must have managed well enough for the little girl spent the remainder of the day close to her, delighting in every chore that Cara set her. After lessons and dinner and another story time in the schoolroom it was a relief to send the children off to their beds. Then feeling as though she could no longer breathe in the close air of her room, she threw on her cloak and ran down the stairs to the garden.

After the heat of the day, the cool evening air caressed Cara's face and soothed away the headache that furrowed her brow. She pressed her fingers along the edges of her headdress wishing that she might free her hair to blow in the soft breeze. She reveled in the moist perfumed air as she walked along the dark paths in the garden. The flowered borders were shadowed clumps with an occasional spot of brilliant color caught in a wandering moonbeam. There was enough light for her to walk the graveled paths without worrying about stumbling.

Why had Julian not dismissed her? Cara wondered in puzzlement.

By all rights he should have, she admitted. She was angry with herself for having lost her temper. However she had been furious when he had spoken so insensitively to Richard and no power on earth could have stilled her tongue. She knew her grandmother would be shocked at her behavior. Cara was so deep in thought that she failed to hear the light step behind her until a hand fell on her shoulder and she gasped in terror.

"Your pardon, Miss Farraday, I did not mean to startle you."

In the moonlight Cara recognized Edward Tallworth's slender figure. She crossed her arms over her breast trying to calm her rapid breathing and laughed to dispel her uneasiness at the man's sudden appearance.

"It's just that I thought I was alone in the garden, Sir Edward."

Cara felt nervous in Tallworth's presence. There was a certain lazy immorality to the manner in which his eyes roamed over her body that she found disturbing. Cara pulled away from his hand and gathered her cloak more securely around herself.

"Such a lovely night for a walk outdoors," Tallworth announced.

"Yes. I have found the evening very refreshing."

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I walked with you for a while?" Tallworth questioned.

"I-I was just on my way back to the Hall," Cara blurted in a rush of words.

For some reason she did not trust Tallworth's company, unchaperoned in a dark garden. Perhaps it was the vague whispers she had heard about the fate of the last governess but for whatever the reasons, Cara had no intentions of putting herself into another compromising position.

"A short walk would be quite pleasant," Tallworth continued as though he had not heard her reply. Taking her arm he turned her in the direction away from the Hall.

Cara stiffened in the man's grasp. She was unwilling to create a scene by struggling with her companion and so let him hold her elbow. Tallworth's rapier thin body moved easily, displaying an athlete's agility and wiriness. Despite her uneasiness Cara assumed he was a gentleman and that she could count on his behaving as such. Mentally shrugging away her apprehension, she followed his lead.

"Are you enjoying your lessons with the children?" he questioned.

Although Cara sensed that Sir Edward was less than interested in her schoolroom activities she chattered brightly about the children. She knew that she was babbling but felt compelled to keep up a light social conversation. A feeling of dread washed over Cara's body as she felt Tallworth's steps leading toward the maze in the center of the garden. She berated herself for permitting the situation to get away from her control. She should have followed her first instincts and broken away from the man at their first encounter. Her heart beat raggedly as she determined to sever the contact before she found herself in worse difficulties.

"I'm sorry, Sir Edward, but I should like to return to the Hall." Cara attempted to keep her voice cool and impersonal.

"Really, Miss Farraday, you needn't come on the coy miss with me." Tallworth's voice was hoarse in the quiet garden. "You have yet to see the maze by moonlight."

"I have no intention of going to the maze with you."

"Then perhaps we should sit here instead."

Before Cara could react Tallworth pulled her down onto a stone seat beside the path. His arms were immediately around her, imprisoning her with bands of steel against his chest. She struggled against the confinement until she heard the loathsome man chuckle at her helplessness.

"If you don't let me go this minute, I will scream loud enough to wake the entire household," Cara said, gritting out the words through clenched teeth. Although it was true she was frightened, uppermost in her emotions was a furious core of anger that the man would dare to treat her in such a cavalier fashion.

"Do you really want everyone to know that you have been in the garden with me?" Tallworth asked, his eyebrow raised in mockery.

Cara bit her lip in her frustration. She would die before letting Julian find her in another awkward situation. Damning men in general and Tallworth in particular, she began to struggle anew.

In an instant Cara realized that her strength was inadequate against Sir Edward's athletic build. She searched for a way out of this frightening assault. Tallworth pressed her body backwards until she was almost lying on the bench. Taking a chance, Cara let her body go limp. Accepting this as a sign of her surrender, Sir Edward loosened his grip and prepared to conduct his seduction more slowly. As his hands reached for the hem of her skirt, Cara rolled sideways knocking the man off the bench as she sprang to her feet preparing to run.

A rasping cough cut through Tallworth's cursing as he staggered after the girl. The two protagonists halted, frozen by the unknown presence in the garden.

"Begging your pardon, Sir Edward, but Miss Farraday's wanted at the Hall."

"Who's there?" Tallworth snarled.

"Pennyfeather, sir," came the reply.

The giant stepped closer so that the moonlight glinted off his grizzled hair and seamed face. He ignored Cara totally although he was aware of her every breath. The air in the garden pulsed with the tension between the three figures; each of them statues in a tableau.

"It's Belin, Miss Farraday," Pennyfeather mumbled, breaking the spell. "She's woke up with a powerful nightmare and is carrying on somethin' awful. Mrs. Clayton thought as how you would be able to settle her down."

"Of course, Pennyfeather. I'll come back with you at once." Cara drew her cloak around her as she passed the malevolent figure on the bench. "Good night, Sir Edward."

As she hurried along the paths toward the Hall, Cara felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into Pennyfeather's arms and sob out her fear and anger. Almost as though the enormous man recognized her need, he placed a fatherly paw on her shoulder and slowed his pace.

"Just take some deep breaths and it'll be better," Pennyfeather suggested as though to a frightened child.

Cara followed his advice and was surprised that she did in fact feel better. She turned to the older man and smiled. "Thank you, Pennyfeather. I was incredibly stupid," Cara chastised herself. "I thought Tallworth was more of a gentleman. I’m afraid I was mistaken."

"Just remember that there's no animal in the woods that you can ever fully trust." Then the man gave a throaty chuckle as he looked down at the young woman. "'Sides, Miss, you didn't appear to need much help. Once you broke his grip it was clear sailing. You could always outrun him."

At the hint of amusement in the old poacher's voice Cara managed a watery giggle. Her mood lightened and they walked to the Hall in companionable silence. At the door to the children's wing Cara held out her hand in thanks. "Should I check on Belin before I go to bed?"

"No, Miss. The child sleeps ever so soundly now that you've come to the Hall." Touching two fingers to his cap, Pennyfeather slid silently back toward the woods.