18

The sun continued to shine, and Jeremy derived a good deal of pleasure from bowling around the grounds, pointing out Vance’s most notable features. He showed her first the regular stables, where he introduced her to his old favorite, Cadmus, and to Teddy’s pony, Balius.

Next, he took her down to his racing stables, where she shook Masterman’s hand and met their champion Bucephalus, who would have retired last year, except for the fact none of his offspring were shaping up to match either his speed or strength. Emmie asked to meet them both and watched Amyas and Atalanta exercising in the paddock.

“What do you think?” Jeremy asked as she rested her arms along the top bar of the fence.

“They are very beautiful,” she said dreamily. “Though there is not much resemblance between them, is there?”

“They have the same sire but different dams,” Jeremy explained.

“I feel sure they will blossom, given the chance to escape their famous father’s shadow. Tell me, does Bucephalus have no daughters?”

“He does,” Jeremy agreed. “Atalanta is a girl, named after the famous Greek heroine who was so fleet of foot.”

“Which one of the two is Atalanta?” He pointed her out. “And will you enter her in races?”

He nodded. “She is currently the better prospect, for she is faster than her brother.”

It was not until they had left the stables far behind them that Emmeline confessed she was an indifferent horsewoman. He noticed she looked relieved when he was not particularly bothered by this news.

“Shall I buy you a horse?” he asked as they strolled arm in arm beside the lake. “Or do you, Lady Faris, prefer to sit at your leisure in a carriage?”

“I prefer a carriage, but if you think I should try and improve, then—”

“A carriage it is,” he assured her. “We have several at our disposal so I cannot see that it will inconvenience me in the slightest.”

“Will your neighbors not think me very odd if I do not career about the countryside on horseback?” she asked.

“Some perhaps,” he admitted. “Squire Pebmarsh’s daughters are both enthusiastic horsewomen, but let me assure you, they did not like Amanda any better because she had an excellent seat.”

He realized his mistake at once and readied himself for a barrage of questions about the Misses Pebmarsh or even Amanda’s proficiency in the saddle but instead, Emmeline simply asked, “And do you attend many race meetings throughout the year?”

Jeremy felt wrong-footed. A flare-up of feminine jealousy would not have been unnatural or even unwelcome to him at this point. Why was Emmeline so determined to avoid such an opportunity? He frowned, then noticed she was still waiting for him to reply. Rapidly he reviewed her last question. “Historically, yes,” he answered cautiously. “At least a couple of times a month.” She nodded. “You do not object?”

“Object?” She sounded startled. “Why should I? Does not the Queen herself attend the races on special occasions?”

“She does,” he agreed. “However, my aunt Louisa reads me a lecture at least twice a year on horse racing and its attendant vices.”

Her lips formed a silent oh . “Because of the betting, I expect.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, I do not mean to interfere with your pleasures,” she assured him, though oddly enough, he found he was not particularly pleased to hear it. He could not think why, and he pondered this as she stood appreciating the view. Finally, it hit him. She was not acting remotely wife-like and strangely, this displeased him. Displeased him a good deal. How to address it though?

“I don’t know about interfering with my pleasures, Emmeline,” he said at last. “You are my wife. I think I would rather have you join me in them. What do you think?” He earned a surprised look in return. “Do you think you might ever like to try accompanying me, perhaps to one of the larger meets,” he suggested. “Ascot maybe, on Gold Cup Day, when there will be lots of ladies present. You don’t need to be a good rider yourself to appreciate the spectacle.”

Emmeline’s face flushed. “I would love to,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Thank you.” Well now, that was rather more like it. “When is it held?”

“June.”

“Something to look forward to, then,” she said cheerfully.

“Yes, something to look forward to,” he agreed, pointing into the distance. “If we carry on walking this way, we will reach the folly and if you walk even further on, then you will reach a path that leads to our own private beach.”

They had left the curricle and horses under the cover of some large oak trees, so they made now for the folly which stood atop a grassy slope. As they headed up the bank approaching it, rain started to fall.

Seizing her hand, Jeremy dragged her the last few feet, and they ducked inside the miniature temple. Inside, it was rather dark and a good deal dingier than he remembered. “This place needs sweeping out,” he observed, noticing the accumulation of old leaves.

“Here’s a bench,” Emmeline said, plying her handkerchief over its surface before lowering herself gingerly onto it. “I hope it’s not covered in cobwebs.”

“There are candles somewhere hereabouts,” he said, feeling along a ledge until he found matches and a box of candles. “Here we are.” He lit one after the other and set them onto the spikes set up for that purpose before joining her on the stone bench.

Emmeline looked about her with much interest, but in truth there was not much to see other than gray stone walls. “Which god or hero of antiquity is this place sacred to?” she asked with a slight shiver as the rain fell steadily beyond the columns. He passed an arm about her shoulders.

“My father was not the fanciful type,” he answered, “so it was never dedicated to anyone. When I played here as a child, I used to pretend it was a gladiatorial training school. I was both chief trainer and star pupil. I used to run up and down the bank as part of my training one hundred times, and I had a wooden sword, a gladius that I used to attack the columns with. I wanted my father to add a miniature amphitheater to the back where I could fight the minotaur, but he never would.”

“Surely the minotaur would have resided in your maze, poor thing,” Emmie pointed out. “Not here in the folly.”

He laughed. “The maze was not here when I was a boy. I had it planted…later.” As though noticing his hesitation, she turned her head to look at him. Luckily it was dark in the folly. “When I got married,” he admitted with some reluctance. “It’s a sort of tradition here at Vance to add something new to the house when someone marries in.” Silently, he prepared himself to answer the inevitable question, but Emmeline did not ask it.

“Of course.” She nodded. “This folly was built when your father married your mother, was it not?”

“That’s right.” Once again, he felt that strangely thwarted sensation. He had been apprehensive to tell her his plans to build a conservatory in her honor, for obvious reasons, but for her to not even ask made him feel deeply uneasy. Why was she sidestepping such issues?

“I want to build something new to commemorate our marriage too,” he pressed on, realizing she was not going to rise to the bait. “There’s an architect coming down for that express purpose.”

“Goodness,” she said lightly. “We will soon be inundated with architects and decorators! Will we have to dine formally every night when they are here?”

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he said abruptly but at the exact same moment, Emmeline asked brightly, “What is in the center of your maze?”

He recovered first. “The center of the maze?”

“Yes. I’m curious.”

You’re curious about the wrong thing , he thought wryly but after all, perhaps the subject of conservatories was also prohibited. He focused instead on her query about the maze. “It’s not a minotaur,” he admitted half-regretfully. “Just a small fountain featuring a hippocampus.”

“You will think me terribly ignorant, but what is a hippocampus?”

“It’s a mythical beast, half horse, half fish.”

“Oh, because of your shared love of horses?”

Shared? Oh, she meant him and Amanda. “I confess I thought only of myself,” he said quite truthfully. “I’d always wanted a maze here at Vance and horses have always been close to my heart. I rather wish I’d had a minotaur now. Teddy would no doubt approve.”

She smiled. “I am sure a hippocampus is just as good.”

A silence that was not altogether comfortable stole over them as they both gazed out of the doorway at the falling rain.

“Shall we dine informally tonight?” he suggested. “Just the three of us.”

“In the breakfast room on the second floor?” He nodded. “I’d love to. I haven’t seen that room yet.”

“Haven’t you?” He frowned. “We must have missed that on your tour. It lies between your suite of rooms and mine.”

“Ah.” She paused. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How we all have our own rooms, even Teddy. And now Pinky will have her own house too.”

Funny? He cast her a sidelong glance. “In what way?”

Emmeline did not answer at once, then she simply shrugged. “I suppose I am just not accustomed to so much space.” Before he could answer, she said, “I think the rain has abated, my lord. Shall we return to the curricle?”

He stood up and blew out the candles and they made their way down the wet grass bank. “Mind your step,” he cautioned. “The grass is wet.”

Emmeline accepted his offered hand. “Where to next?” she asked.

He pulled a face. “Well, the hedges of the maze will be dripping with rainwater, so I think we should forgo that experience for another day.”

“Agreed.”

“We could walk around the formal gardens,” he suggested. “And then the informal ones.”

“What are the informal gardens?” she enquired.

“Nothing too exciting,” he responded. “The ones located around the back of the house. Namely the kitchen gardens, orchard, and hothouse,” he replied. “Or…”

“Or?” she repeated curiously.

“We could take a drive about the wider estate,” he suggested. “I could show you more of the grounds outside the gates, the lodge, and the tenant cottages, including Miss Pinson’s new abode.”

She caught her breath. “Plumtree Cottage?”

“The very same.”

Suddenly, the enthusiasm seemed to fade from her eyes, and she seemed to reconsider. “I don’t know,” she said slowly, surprising him. “I think you know that there was something in what you said before.”

“What did I say?”

“That Hannah might enjoy showing me around her home once she has it all set up how she wants it. I should hate to…to take anything away from this experience for her. Now that I know how very much it means to her to have her own home.”

She gave him a fleeting look. “I have you to thank for that, my lord,” she said, coloring faintly. “I would not have realized her feelings on the matter if you had not said…what you said. Despite our closeness, I was quite blind on that subject.”

Jeremy cleared his throat, feeling suddenly a little guilty. His motive in setting Miss Pinson up in a separate abode had been far from altruistic. “Sometimes it is like that with those we are closest to,” he said rather tritely. “You have been a good friend to her over the years, I am sure.”

“I hope so,” she said quietly. “She has certainly been the very best of friends to me.”

They had reached the curricle by this point and Jeremy helped her up into it before untying the horses. “So then…the gardens?” he asked, swinging himself up and sitting beside her in the seat.

Emmeline smiled and nodded. “The gardens,” she agreed, and they headed back to the stables, to return the carriage.

They spent the next couple of hours wandering around garden paths and narrowly avoiding rainclouds by ducking under arches and arbors and whatever else afforded shelter. Jeremy introduced Emmeline to the head gardener, Hudgins, and two undergardeners, Smith and Iverson, who promised her as many flowers and fresh fruits and vegetables as she could possibly hope for.

Jeremy was not ready to part with her when they returned to the house, so instead he escorted her to the room she had mentioned she still hadn’t seen, the private dining room. She tried to hide the fact, but he could see she was clearly disappointed as she surveyed the room.

“What were you expecting?” he asked curiously.

She looked evasive. “Well, it’s just, you said it was for informal dining and this still looks, well, like a wholly respectable dining room,” she admitted, making him laugh.

“Now, Ballentine, did you expect us to lie on low couches eating grapes in togas?” he teased.

“Perhaps,” she admitted with a laugh. “Do you know, I think that table in my bedroom with the cushions elevated my expectations. I was expecting something rather more along those lines.” She looked rather wistful.

“We could always move that table in here,” Jeremy suggested. “Teddy would probably like that.”

“Yes, I think I would like that too,” she responded solemnly, surprising him. Jeremy blinked. Who was it who said she was a conventional creature? He could not recall at this precise moment.

Impulsively, he walked back out into the corridor and looked left then right for a passing maid. Bridget was just disappearing around a corner, so he called to her. “Hie Bridget! Send Higgins up here, will you, there’s a good girl. I need some furniture moved about. Oh, and have Smith and Iverson sent in from the gardens. I want some items fetched down from the attic.”

Emmeline looked torn between excitement and guilt when he reentered the room. She bit her lip and eyed the table and chairs. “Will it fit in the attic?” she asked.

He shrugged, then heard approaching voices. It was Miss Pinson, Teddy, and Colfax. “Maybe Miss Pinson could take it,” he suggested. “Was there a dining set among the Winkworth furniture?”

“No, well, there was a small table and chairs for two, though they did not match—”

“Perfect, she can take this one.” He exited the room again, catching the attention of the newcomers. “We’re in here!” he hailed them. “Come and join us.”

Teddy was on him in an instant. “Plumtree Cottage has three bedrooms, Papa, but the third is very small and a full-size bed will not fit in there, only a trundle or a bunk.”

“Is that so? Miss Pinson,” he said, turning to her. “What do you think of this dining set?” She hurried over to join him, looking very pink and breathless.

“Oh, it’s vastly handsome, my lord. It looks to be Sheraton, if I am not mistaken. My dear papa always thought that Sheraton made such a refined style of furniture.”

“Would it fit in Plumtree Cottage?” His words instantly threw her into confusion.

“Oh dear, I did not mean—I could not possibly—”

“It would fit, milord, just about,” Colfax said with quiet authority. “Though she might have to line the chairs against the wall when they’re not in use.”

“Excellent.” He turned back to the protesting lady. “I assure you, Miss Pinson, it is not in the least an imposition, on the contrary, you are doing us a favor. Now, tell me, are there any other items you need? We’re about to brave the attics. Perhaps we should make a list.”

Teddy whooped with excitement. “Pinky needs a piano, Papa, for her parlor. She has not had one since their London days.”

Miss Pinson gave a faint squawk. “Dear child!” She faltered. “You must not—!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emmeline cross the room to take her friend’s hand and give it a reassuring pat.

“You keep an eye out for a piano,” Jeremy instructed Teddy. He cast a quick glance around the room. “Now, what else do we need in here? Low couches you said, Emmeline—”

“ You said low couches!” she responded but he was not attending, as he noticed his second footman had sidled into the room. “Ah Higgins, there you are. You and Colfax need to load this furniture onto the wagon that has just returned and send it straight to Plumtree Cottage.”

“Very good, milord.”

“And when Smith and Iversen appear, have them sent straight up to join us in the attics.”

“Yes, milord.”

“To the attics!” yelled Teddy, leading the charge. Emmeline and Miss Pinson took after him, leaving Jeremy to bring up the rear.