Chapter Fourteen

O liver returned to the Castle Inn, and Ysella, barely able to conceal her excitement, and Ellen rejoined James and the barouche when he brought it round to the dressmakers' shop. Ysella had called in at the haberdasher's near the Castle and bought the mob cap she'd told Kit she was going to buy for Martha. That had been a last-minute purchase, as she'd nearly forgotten about it. She also bought a length of wide blue ribbon to give to Ellen as a reward for her silence. A bribe, perhaps. Overjoyed at her luck, Ellen promised absolute silence about Ysella's clandestine meeting with Oliver. After all, Ysella told herself, there was practically nothing to tell, anyway, as Ellen couldn't possibly have heard their whispered plans.

Back at Ormonde, Ysella went to great pains to describe to Mama all her purchases, although Kit, whom she'd really wanted to tell, was conspicuous by his absence at luncheon. "He's eating upstairs with Morvoren," Mama said. "I had a tray sent up for them. She's a little stronger today, but Doctor Busick wants her to stay in bed another week."

"I ordered some beautiful baby gowns for George," Ysella expanded as they nibbled dainty sandwiches together in the drawing room. Luncheon was never a large meal.

Mama seemed delighted at Ysella's interest in the baby, and the conversation drifted to her reminiscences of when her own children had been that little, which, now the floodgates had been opened, brought more confidences about the lost children. Somehow, today, Ysella didn't want to hear about them for fear their tale made Mama too sad. And her, as well. She managed to turn the conversation towards lighter tales of when she herself had been a small child.

A tiny pang of guilt assaulted her, though, as she listened to fond reminiscences of her naughtinesses, which seemed to be all Mama could remember, as though she'd never been well behaved. Of course, she'd always known how much Mama loved her, but these little stories brought it home with a jolt. Tomorrow morning, when Ysella's absence was discovered, Mama was going to be distraught. Might it bring back to her the loss of her other children? Ysella surprised herself with her own insight.

Could she do that to Mama? The sandwich she'd been nibbling turned to dry sawdust in her mouth. Was she not doing a very selfish thing, running off like this?

"Ysella," Mama said, calling her back to the moment. "Is something wrong? You're not eating and are looking quite pale."

Ysella hastily popped the remains of her sandwich into her mouth, chewed a moment and swallowed. It went down like a lump of lead. "Nothing's wrong." Why was that lump lodged in her throat? It couldn't be the sandwich as she'd swallowed that. She forced a smile. "I'm perfectly fine."

Mama's expression said she didn't believe her.

Ysella took a small cake. "I think I'll go up and see little George in the nursery after luncheon." Anything to distract Mama's gimlet gaze, because if she wasn't careful, she was going to cry, and that was silly. Why would her decision to elope with the man she loved be bringing tears to her eyes and that lump to her throat? Ridiculous.

It worked. Mama smiled. "Every time I go to see him, he's changed a little. Jessie's little girl is thriving as well, which is good to see. What good fortune it was that she should have been born on the same day as George. Morvoren told me it's very important for a baby to have the first milk a mother produces." She frowned. "Something about something she called ‘antibodies.' She does have such a lot of surprising scientific knowledge for a young lady."

Ysella smiled and nodded, catastrophe averted.

*

When she went upstairs after luncheon was finished, she found George was not in the nursery. Nanny told her she'd find him in Morvoren's room, so she walked along the corridor, knocked, and went inside.

Loveday was bustling about tidying, while Morvoren sat up in bed, supported by many pillows, with George sleeping in her arms.

Ysella paused in the doorway taking in this delightful scene, the realization washing over her that she would be abandoning both Morvoren and George this very night, and possibly not seeing them again for some time. If Kit were very vexed, possibly not for years. A nub of indecision formed in Ysella's heart. Could she really give all this up? Was she ready for the changes being married to Oliver would necessitate? Had she made the right decision in agreeing to elope with him? Was she not being a tad impetuous? Perhaps, even now, she could persuade Kit to favor the match and accept Oliver's suit for her, and then she would have no need to abandon her family until the wedding, and afterwards would be able to visit whenever she wanted.

"Ysella," Morvoren called. "Come, sit beside the bed and tell me about your morning."

Ysella closed the door and did as she was told, perching on the edge of the chair by the bed. "Nothing much to report," she said, forcing a cheery smile. "I went into Marlborough to order a new dress. And I ordered some delightful baby gowns for George." She'd been going to say that when Morvoren was better, they could go in together and choose some more, but had to stop herself. When Morvoren was better, she would be married to Oliver and living who knew where. A sobering thought.

Morvoren sighed. "How lucky you are. I can't wait to be up and about again. Doctor Busick insists that I stay in bed, but I'm not sure that's such a good idea." She sighed. "I can't wait to be back on my feet again and able to look after George myself."

"And ride with me," Ysella said, before she thought. Another thing she was going to miss. Why was she only now thinking of all this? When she'd agreed to elope, none of this had crossed her mind, but now Oliver wasn't with her, she wasn't even sure she still wanted to run off with him. Not if it meant leaving all this behind.

Morvoren nodded. "I have missed my rides with you. Particularly the ones when we were wearing our breeches." She put out a hand and patted Ysella's hand. "Those were the most fun."

Ysella bit her lip. Would she ever be able to ride out again in breeches? Was Oliver the sort of man who would disapprove of his wife doing something like that? And where would they be living? The notion that neither of them had discussed this seared through her brain like a hot knife. As far as she knew, Oliver had not looked further ahead than a marriage ceremony conducted by a smelly blacksmith on the Scottish borders. She certainly hadn't up until this point. A hollow formed in her stomach.

"Are you all right?" Morvoren asked. "You look like you're miles away."

Ysella started. "Yes, yes. I'm quite fine. Just dreaming about riding astride again one day soon." She managed a smile. "I'm sure you'll be well enough for that before long." There, none of her reply had been a lie. She didn't want to have to lie to Morvoren.

Morvoren sighed. "I hope so. I'm so fed up with being confined to my bed." She looked down at George's sleeping face. "Although I'm very glad to have George in my arms at last."

Ysella stroked the baby's soft downy cheek. "I have to say, he does seem to be a particularly beautiful baby."

Morvoren nodded. "Although we are perhaps a little biased." She looked up. "But aren't you looking forward to your return to London to finish the season? I feel so guilty that you're missing so many balls because of me." She smiled. "I'm sure you'll find yourself another handsome gentleman. You're so pretty and vivacious. How can any man not be smitten by you?" She patted Ysella's hand. "I'm so glad you saw sense about that young man who was here the other day. If he's a friend of Fitz's, he can't be a true gentleman. Although, Loveday did tell me that she peeked at him over the bannisters and he looked very handsome and quite the dandy."

Heat rose to Ysella's cheeks. "He is indeed very handsome," she said, fidgeting a little. "But Kit doesn't like him and I have seen him for what he is, as you know."

Morvoren nodded. "Very sensible of you."

Ysella, who'd been gazing down at the baby, raised her eyes. "I just hope Kit won't take against any other suitor who pays me attention. Fitz has a wide circle of friends, so there's a risk any young gentleman might be a friend of his. I do feel it's a little unfair to take against a person just because they happen to know someone you don't like." She paused, conscious of the fact that she was somewhat contradicting what she'd said to Morvoren after Oliver's visit.

Morvoren pursed her lips. "Well, you know Kit doesn't like Fitz. So he's bound to think that any friend of his would be similar."

"But that's unfair too. I like Fitz. Mama likes Fitz. Why can't Kit?"

Morvoren shrugged. "He is a terrible rake, which you told me yourself. And you know he was in charge of the raids on the smugglers down in Cornwall which led to Kit being shot. He's not at all popular in Cornwall, which I've heard is why he's back in London."

Ysella managed a giggle that sounded false even to her, choosing to ignore the bit about leading the revenue men. "But being a rake is part of what makes him so charming. He's a dreadful flirt, but you know he doesn't mean it because he's so candid about having to find an heiress with a fortune. So you just don't take him seriously."

Morvoren shifted the baby's position slightly, as though her arm might be aching, her brow furrowing. "Does it not occur to you that perhaps Captain Featherstone has a similar need? And that is why he has been pursuing you. You said you've decided Kit was right. Have you changed your mind again?"

She said it so gently, unlike Kit with his blustering and shouting, Ysella was almost lulled into betraying herself. "I-I don't know. Perhaps. No. I don't know. I'm all confused." She shook her head, aware that if she wasn't careful, she was going to put her foot well and truly in it. She had to think clearly. "But I don't care anymore. It's of no interest to me. I shall never see Ol—Captain Featherstone again, I expect. Kit was right about him." Better make sure Morvoren wouldn't start to suspect she hadn't been honest the other day and wasn't being entirely honest now.

"Although he is—was—very handsome, and I did fancy myself a little in love with him." She tilted her head to one side. "I know now that I need to listen to those who know better, like you and Kit and Mama."

Morvoren's skeptical expression worried her. Had she laid the contrition on too thickly?

"Are you sure you're not still a little bit in love with him?" Morvoren probed.

Ysella groped for a response that wouldn't give her away, and that might match what she'd just said. How hard it was to fence words with a friend who knew her so well. "He told me he loved me," she tried. "And I believed him. I thought it wouldn't matter if he had no money of his own, as I have my dowry coming to me." Had she said too much? "But of course, none of that counts now, as I've told Kit I shan't see him again. Just as Kit wants." She bestowed a small frown on Morvoren. "But you must promise not to tell any of this to Kit. I don't want him to know Oliver said he loved me."

Morvoren returned the frown. "Do you expect me to keep secrets from my husband?"

"Well… I suppose not. I don't want you to lie to him. Perhaps just don't tell him unless he expressly asks? That wouldn't be keeping secrets, would it?"

"That's as may be. I'm not at all sure I approve of that young man. Captain Featherstone. I think Kit may well be right about him."

Not Morvoren as well. Ysella's heart sank. "Kit forbade him from coming here while you're convalescing. So I shan't be seeing him." Now she was lying. "But when I return to Town, when you're recovered, Kit won't be able to stop me from seeing him occasionally at balls." Her lower lip jutted. "He won't be able to stop him from dancing with me. And dancing with a gentleman doesn't mean I'm in love with him."

Morvoren patted her hand. "I thought you just said you'd never see him again. No, it doesn't matter. I understand how confused you must be feeling. You're young and you're impetuous, and it's only reasonable you should kick over the traces. And you're right. Kit won't be able to prevent you from dancing with the captain. But you must be sensible, Ysella, which I know you can be. Kit has told me some bad things about Captain Featherstone."

Ysella nodded, attempting to school her features into those of a wise and contrite young woman. It hurt to have to lie to Morvoren, but if she knew what she and Oliver had planned, she'd surely betray her to Kit.

*

Sam was in his office going over the receipts for some of the new mechanized farm equipment Kit had ordered, when the door opened and his employer came in, a frown on his face. He'd clearly been out riding, as he still had his whip in his hand, which he was tapping with vigor against his leg.

"Good day," Sam said, laying down the papers and leaning back in his seat. "What can I do for you?"

Kit sat down with a thump in the chair on the other side of the desk. "I don't know." A scowl darkened his face. "I have a restlessness about me that I can't pin down." He looked up. "As though I'm waiting for something bad to happen."

Sam steepled his fingers. "If you're worried about Morvoren, I don't think you need be. And I gather little George is in rude health. Jessie Jenkins is proving to be a wonderful wetnurse. And having her live here is probably a wise move, although I daresay her husband isn't best pleased." He chuckled.

Kit shook his head. "I'm more than recompensing him for his troubles, and Jessie is being well-fed so she can produce as much milk as possible. It can't be easy feeding two babies." He crossed his legs and laid his whip across his lap. "I don't think it's Morvoren I'm so agitated about. I think it's Ysella."

"In what way?" Sam asked, cold tendrils creeping across his skin, yet warm blood rushing to his face, as it did every time Ysella was mentioned.

"Well, the trouble is, I just don't know," Kit replied, shaking his head. "She's being just too damned good , and it doesn't seem natural. Not like her at all. Mama suggested she might be sickening for something. I hope not. We've had enough sickness in this house and she'd have to be kept away from Morvoren and George in case she passed it on to them."

"I haven't heard of any outbreaks of sickness amongst your tenants."

"Neither have I. So it has to be something else. When that girl goes quiet, she's usually plotting something. I know her all too well."

Sam sucked in his lips. "She could just be missing London. After the excitement of going to balls every week, Ormonde with no visitors must seem very tame to her."

"Or she's missing that cad. Even though she swore to me to have nothing more to do with him."

Sam's blood ran colder still. "That's true." Oh, how he wished it wasn't.

"But I sent him packing. Told him he couldn't visit while Morvoren is recovering, so, hopefully he's returned to London with his tail between his legs in search of a new heiress to dangle after. I hope he tries his hand with a tradesman's daughter—that's more in his line. A tradesman would be glad of an army officer and the son of a bishop for a son-in-law and probably overlook that he's a fortune-hunting cad. He's not good enough for the sister of a viscount." He laughed. "Call me a snob if you will, but I'd far rather see my sister wed to an honest Cornish tin miner than I would that man. There's something about him that rings false, officer or not. He's no gentleman."

Sam's heart did a small leap. If Kit was prepared to see Ysella married to a miner in place of Featherstone, might that mean his own suit would not be disdained? No. A faint hope. Whatever Kit said, he would want Ysella to marry well, preferably to a man with his own country house for her to run, and a title to his name. Surely? And besides this, Ysella would never love him. She'd bestowed her heart, if Kit's suspicions were correct and she'd been gulling them, on a ne'er-do-well rake. And he, Sam, had lost her forever.