Chapter Ten

B ack at Roskilly, Nat and Sam left their two horses in the care of Old Pascoe, the man who’d risen to take over his father’s place as head groom in the eleven years Nat had been away and was indeed the father of the young groom Nat had already met, and Nat led Sam indoors. Luncheon must be over by now, so Nat escorted their visitor in the direction of the parlor, where his mother always liked to spend her afternoons. However, this involved passing the library, the door of which stood slightly ajar. The sound of merry laughter emanated from within.

Sam ground to a halt.

“No, you can’t do that,” came Miss Fairfield’s voice raised in what sounded like a mix of mock admonition and laughter. “The only pieces that can move diagonally are the bishops and the queen.”

“But why can’t my prawn move the same?” The high-pitched and indignant tones of young Yves carried to Nat’s ears.

“It’s a pawn, you silly, not a prawn .” Hetty’s voice, brimming with mirth. “But he’s right, Caroline. It would be a much more interesting game if they could all move wherever they wanted.” For a moment, Nat’s stony heart softened. What would it be like to be so carefree and happy again? To be young and reveling in the joys of life as Hetty and Yves did, and perhaps Miss Fairfield as well.

Miss Fairfield’s voice came again. “Well, a pawn can move diagonally, but only if it’s taking another piece. Like this.” More laughter.

“I say,” Sam said. “That sounds to me like Caroline. I mean, Miss Fairfield. Do you mind if we stop to see her?”

This must have been a rhetorical question, because without waiting for an answer, Sam pushed the library door open wider and stepped through it. Just as a quavery old voice that had to be Aunt Agnes’s rose in a plaintive whine. “Let me help little Robert. I know how all the pieces move. I’m not so old and feeble that I’ve forgotten that.”

Grinding his teeth at the delay in delivering their guest and therefore making his escape, Nat followed Sam into the library.

Everyone who’d presumably just been staring at Sam suddenly transferred their gazes to him. Reacting without thinking, he turned his head slightly to the right. Miss Fairfield’s sympathetic eyes followed the inadvertent move, and he felt heat flood his cheeks as though he’d been caught out in some furtive crime.

Miss Fairfield recovered first. She rose from the wingback chair she’d been occupying and swept Sam a graceful curtsey. “Mr. Beauchamp, how delightful to see you.”

Sam bowed. “Miss Fairfield. And this must be Miss Treloar.”

“It is indeed,” Caroline replied.

“Two Miss Treloars,” Hetty responded, also rising to her feet from a stool she’d pulled up, no doubt so she could benefit the players with her wisdom. She executed an elegant curtsey for Sam. “For this is my Aunt Agnes who is also a Miss Treloar and, by benefit of her age, takes precedence over me.”

“Prettily put, for such a chit,” Aunt Agnes muttered, her gaze flicking from Nat to Sam and then back again. Her sparse, straggly eyebrows lowered. “Do I not merit an introduction to our visitor, young Nat?”

At least she’d remembered his name this time. “Aunt Agnes, may I present Mr. Samuel Beauchamp of Carlyon Court,” Nat said. “A friend of Miss Fairfield’s.”

Caroline edged her way around the chess board. “And as such we are on first name terms. Sam is my dear friend, Miss Treloar, as is his wife, Ysella Carlyon as was.”

The old lady sucked her lips over her sparsely toothed gums. “Well connected for a governess, ain’t you?” Her eyes darted over Sam. “I remember going to Carlyon Court as a girl. The old viscount settled it on his younger son and he married a local girl. Wise man that he was.” Her eyes took on a vacant expression, as though she were seeing back into the long gone past. “Miss Gabriella Polvean, I think her name was. Lovely woman.” Her gaze sharpened. “Be you related to them, then?”

“Better shout,” Hetty said. “Or she won’t hear you.”

Sam stepped closer to Aunt Agnes. “I’m married to that Lady Ormonde’s granddaughter, Miss Treloar.”

Yves, who had remained seated on his stool opposite Caroline, now rose to his feet, a distinct look of his grandfather about him. He made a little bow, made comical by his skeleton suit. “Welcome to Roskilly, Mr. Beauchamp.”

“May I introduce Master Yves Treloar,” Caroline said. “My pupil.”

Nat began to edge toward the door, but Aunt Agnes wasn’t about to lose her audience. “Sit down, sit down, boy,” she cackled. “And Yves, ring the bell for Ennion and we’ll get tea sent up.”

Sam obediently pulled up a seat nearer to the fire, and Nat did the same, with distinct unwillingness, and keeping a little further back. Damn it. He’d never escape now. He was stuck having to take tea with a man who was too chatty for his liking, three women, and a far-too-cheeky child.

“Can you play chess, sir?” Yves asked Sam, as he regained his stool after having rung the bell.

Sam nodded. “Not well. I’ve not a mind for tactics. But I’m good at draughts.”

“What’s draughts?”

“We have a draughts set,” Hetty piped up. “It’s much easier than chess. You’d like it, Yves. I’ll fetch it.”

While Yves and Hetty delved into one of the chests under the long library windows, Caroline regained her seat. She was tall for a woman, and perhaps not so plain as Nat had at first thought. An intelligent, thoughtful face, that, when she smiled at Yves, lit up. If you were generous, she could even be taken for pretty when she smiled.

“Nat can play chess,” Aunt Agnes said. “Why don’t you give him a game, my girl?”

Was she talking to Miss Fairfield? Nat, who had been staring into the fire intent on not having to talk to anyone, glanced sideways at Caroline and found her eyes already on him. “Would you like a game?” she asked, face demure and innocent.

It would be rude to refuse. “I am a little rusty.” In truth, he hadn’t played the game since he’d been in Spain, with a chess set one of his troopers had carved from bone and walnut. But he’d always been a skillful player, schooled by his grandfather, and that wouldn’t have left him.

She smiled, her eyes still firmly fixed on his. “Then we shall play while Sam teaches Yves how to play draughts.”

Hetty returned clutching a board and a box of draughts. “We’ll need a second table. Mr. Beauchamp? Might you help Yves fetch that one over?”

Nat watched as Sam and Yves set up their table and Hetty showed Yves how to lay the pieces out, a memory of his own father teaching him the game leaping into his head. The little dog, a faithful creature, settled itself at Yves’s feet.

“I’ll be on your side and help you learn the moves,” Hetty said, squeezing herself onto Yves’s stool beside him. “You’ll like this better than chess because it’s easier to learn.”

When Nat looked back, Caroline had rearranged the chess pieces ready to play. “White or black?” she asked.

“Black,” Nat said, trying to keep the gruffness out of his tone. No doubt a woman would not be much of an opponent. Their minds were not constructed for being tactical. And he had the advantage that there’d not been much else to do in the evenings on campaign, so he’d taken the opportunity to play a lot of chess with his fellow officers.

Aunt Agnes leaned forwards, smacking her withered lips in anticipation.

Ennion unobtrusively brought in a tea tray and set it down, but now the games were in hand, no one paid it any attention. Nat lounged back in his seat, his gaze on Caroline.

As she was playing white, she opened the game by moving her queen’s knight forward to in front of his bishop’s pawn. Nat retaliated by bringing his king’s pawn forward two squares. So far so good. Did she not want to gain the vital central squares? Well, he wasn’t here to teach her how to play. Just to beat her.

Her brow furrowed in concentration, Caroline moved her other knight forward to occupy the square in front of her other bishop’s pawn, mirroring the first. Interesting move.

Nat frowned as well. What was she playing at? He moved his queen’s pawn one square forward to open up his back row a bit.

Aunt Agnes cackled with laughter but apart from that stayed silent. She’d been a chess player in her youth, although not as good as his father, and many were the times she’d beaten Nat as a small boy with this exact chess set. The memory surfaced of how pleased he’d been the first time he beat her.

“You hop over the draughts like this,” Hetty said, and the sound of Yves doing just that tapped on the draughts board.

“This is much more fun than chess,” he cried.

Caroline moved her king’s pawn forward to sit facing Nat’s king’s pawn.

“I wondered when you’d do that,” he remarked.

She raised her head and smiled at him. She really was quite transformed when she did that. “Oh, was it something I was meant to do?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.” And he moved his king’s bishop’s pawn forward two squares to threaten her pawn. His favored opponent had been Captain Carnegie, until… No. He wouldn’t think about that.

Caroline drew in her bottom lip under her top teeth as though not sure what to do next. Her hand hovered over the board in apparent indecision, then settled on her king’s rook’s pawn and moved it forward one square. She sat back, a puzzled frown on her face as though she thought that might have been a mistake.

Nat took her threatened pawn, capturing two of the central squares. She was playing into his hands.

She took his aggressive pawn with her knight. Nat studied the board, thinking about what to do next.

“I won!” cried Yves in delight. “Can we play again?”

“You’re a natural,” Sam replied, his throaty laugh rumbling round the laden bookshelves.

Nat brought out his queen’s knight. She’d probably take his pawn next with her knight, and then he could retaliate and take her knight.

She didn’t. Instead, she moved it to the right. So that was her game, was it?

“One more game,” Sam said, laughing. “And then I really must go and see Mrs. Treloar and complete the mission my wife gave me.”

Nat moved his queen’s pawn out two squares to consolidate his possession of the center.

“What mission is that?” Hetty asked.

Quite unexpectedly, Caroline moved her queen out on the diagonal to sit beside her knight and threaten Nat’s king. “Check,” she said, sounding quite surprised.

“I’ve come to invite you all to a ball at Carlyon Court,” Sam said. The draughts pieces rattled as they were laid out again.

Sam brought his king’s knight’s pawn out to threaten Caroline’s queen. She’d have to get out of that for her next move.

As he’d expected, she moved her queen back two squares along the diagonal to protect her other knight.

“A ball?” Hetty gasped. “All of us? When?”

“I don’t want to go to a ball,” Yves protested.

Hetty laughed. “I don’t think Mr. Beauchamp means you.”

Nat brought his king’s knight out of the back row.

“A ball?” Caroline said, leaning back for a moment as though their game were nearly over and didn’t matter to her. “That will be lovely for you, Hetty.” With casual indifference she moved her other knight forward out of Nat’s pawn’s way and sat it between Nat’s queen and the second knight. “Oh, I believe that’s check again.”

Damn it. So it was. She had no need to sound quite so surprised about it. He needed to concentrate better.

Sam joined in the laughter. “I don’t think small boys go to balls.”

“Thank goodness,” Yves muttered.

“You’ll want to one day,” Hetty said.

Aunt Agnes let out a rather random cackle of laughter.

To get out of check, Nat brought his king forward one space to threaten the pesky knight. He couldn’t take the knight though, as it was protected by Caroline’s queen.

“But I would like to go,” Hetty said. “I’ve only been to one social event so far, at the Assembly Rooms, and it was such fun, but not the same as a ball at someone’s house.”

Caroline took one of Nat’s two pawns in the center of the board with her knight, which put Nat’s king back in check again. Damn it. Was she perhaps better at this than he’d given her credit for? Nat countered by moving his king again, feeling as though he was very much on the back foot here but not sure how he’d got there. Women were not meant to be this good at games of strategy.

“I’m sure your mama will let you go,” Caroline said, her head tilted slightly to one side as she studied the board. No doubt in search of another way to check him. And she found one. What was going on here? She moved her second knight onto another of the central squares Nat had thought she’d had no hope of gaining. “Check, I think…”

Nat took her other knight with his king, painfully aware he’d left this important piece exposed and that he couldn’t take the other knight with it because of Caroline’s queen.

“Do you think Mama will let me have a new gown?” Hetty asked. “No, move that piece, Yves. Haha! Got you, Mr. Beauchamp.” Clink clink went the draughts piece as Yves hopped over Sam’s. Probably Sam was letting him win. Not a good thing for a child. Nat’s own experience of playing board games with adults had been being beaten time after time, which had made the joy of finally winning all the sweeter.

“You can but ask her,” Caroline said, bringing out her king’s bishop to threaten Nat’s king. “Check.”

Nat took the bishop with some little relish, goaded into recklessness by her play.

“I’m winning again!” Yves crowed. “I like this game.”

Caroline slid her queen horizontally to take up position threatening Nat’s king once more. Drat it. He couldn’t take the queen without being taken himself. The only escape he could see was to move back onto the central squares out of the queen’s reach. For now. He had a nasty feeling he wasn’t going to win this game.

Caroline chuckled and slid her queen along two squares. “Checkmate, I think.”

Yves craned his neck. “Did you beat Cousin Nat, Caroline?”

Hetty got up to come and look. “You did! Well done.” She clapped her hands together. “And Yves and I have beaten Mr. Beauchamp, again.”

Nat looked up from the board, and found Caroline’s eyes resting on him. No trace of triumph resided in them, just calm innocence. “You play a good game,” he said. “I’ve not met an opponent such as you before.”

She smiled, her eyes suddenly misting over as though she might be about to shed a tear. “I learned from a master. My father liked a game but could never find anyone to give him a good contest. So, he taught me.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed. Part of him held back from asking her anything further, as clearly memories of her father pained her. Instinct had him recoiling from prying into her past life and thus becoming more involved in her present, as that was the last thing he wanted to do. But another part of him felt curiosity at what might have brought a girl to be a governess whose father had plainly had enough time to spend turning her into the accomplished chess player she was.

He couldn’t resist. “And your father no longer plays?”

She shook her head, the sparkle of a tear in the corner of her eye. “No. He does not.” She clamped her lips together. That was all he was getting from her.

Sam Beauchamp stood up. “Perhaps I’d better go and see Mrs. Treloar now, and deliver my invitation.” He smiled at Caroline. “Ysella sends her felicitations to you, Caroline, and hopes you will also attend the ball. The invitation is for all of you.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Hetty exclaimed, reaching to catch Caroline’s arm. “How perfect. And you are not old and wrinkled like Miss Hawkins was, even if you are no longer in the first flush of your youth. I would be so happy if you were to accompany Mama and me. So much more fun to have a friend like you to go with. At the Assembly Rooms I had to stay with Mama the whole time and it was awful. She insisted on vetting all the young gentlemen who wanted to dance with me in the most discouraging way.”

Nat almost laughed out loud at both Hetty’s remark and Sam’s suggestion. Mama was not going to think much of the idea of taking her nephew’s governess to a ball, that was for certain. Good luck to Sam Beauchamp at succeeding in that.