Chapter Nine

C assie had perhaps underestimated the effect on her neighbors of a fashionable gentleman sitting in the Verwood pew at St. Andrew's. A damp, dismal day had not discouraged church attendance, and St. Andrew's was packed. Though Mr. Montford's sermonizing usually lulled his listeners into a Sunday doze, Cassie did not need to turn round to know that her neighbors were fully awake. She suspected that most pairs of female eyes, and some male ones as well, were directed toward Sir Adrian's tall person. With his appearance in church, he ceased to belong exclusively to the ladies of Verwood. Now their neighbors had claims upon him. A report circulating in the village said he was worth ten thousand pounds per annum. Cassie believed the actual figure was thirty.

With the final triumphant notes of a rousing hymn, a general stir rustled through St. Andrew's. Shuffling and murmurs accompanied the plop of hymnals sliding into holders. Sir Adrian stepped out of the Verwood pew and offered his arm to Grandmama who took it with her usual cool disdain. In Grandmama's mind, it was she who bestowed the favor. Cassie and Honoria followed, past neighbors craning in the pews to catch a glimpse of the gentleman. No one seeing him in his elegant London coat would credit Jay Kydd's story of Sir Adrian's youth as Raven.

Outside, under the dripping eaves of St. Andrew's little porch, Mr. Montford greeted them, and invited them to dinner, an awkward invitation, as Sir Adrian, not his titled landlady, was obviously the true object of Mrs. Montford's warm hospitality. When the press of the crowd behind them became too much to resist, Mr. Montford allowed Sir Adrian to escort Grandmama to her carriage. Once her grandmother had been helped inside, Sir Adrian turned to Cassie, his dark, winged brows as black as a raven's, no plaster dust on him.

"Before you go, a quick word." He offered his arm and led her back to a spot under the trees. "Are there any of your neighbors I should avoid? Those that Her Grace would not welcome at Verwood?"

"Oh, I suspect you can't avoid meeting them all as long as the rain holds off." She grinned at his dilemma, but she did not think Grandmama would actually terminate his lease for inviting any of their more pushing neighbors to Verwood. "You are as coveted as the prize turkey at the fair. Our local hostesses will vie to have you at their tables."

"Prize turkey?" Sir Adrian scanned the crowd as if he sought some familiar face. As she followed his gaze, Cassie saw Jay Kydd leap down from a black curricle standing in the west road beyond the churchyard. She shifted her position slightly to keep Sir Adrian between her and Mr. Kydd. Her encounter with Mr. Kydd now seemed most irregular and a bit mad, certainly out of character. She had avoided any repeat of the occasion. What had she been thinking to enter into conversation with a stranger and let him rattle on telling her his history and Sir Adrian's, believing the whole, and concealing her own identity. She could not think why she'd done it. She supposed that she had been gratified in some way by Mr. Kydd's attentions, and she had to admit that she'd been curious to hear about Raven.

She glanced up at Sir Adrian and realized that she had missed something he'd said. "I beg your pardon."

"Lord Ramsbury and his family don't attend services at St. Andrew's?"

"Lord Ramsbury? No. The family has a private chapel and their own chaplain, a Mr. Bellamy."

"Ah," said Sir Adrian. "I wondered."

"Are you acquainted with the Haydon family?" Cassie asked. He could not know the whole family. He certainly had not recognized Hugh that day at the inn.

"With Lady Amabel I am. We met in London," he said with a smile, a smile that softened and transformed his face. Cassie froze, and an odd tremor shook her. There was no mistaking what that smile meant. Sir Adrian Cole was in love with Lady Amabel Haydon.

Abruptly, Sir Adrian's interest in Verwood made sense. Verwood bordered Ramsbury Park. Proximity to Amabel had been Verwood's chief attraction, not the hall or the grounds. He had come to court Amabel. His determination to improve the hall was for Amabel. She was the object of all his efforts. The realization stirred a sickening knot in Cassie's stomach, a churning mix of alarm and fear, not for herself but for him. The singlemindedness of his admiration for Amabel was too like her own past infatuation with Torrington. She straightened and worked to dispel her agitation. The shock of discovery would wear off. Amabel was not Torrington. Cassie knew no wrong of Amabel, who had been a lovely child when Cassie had her Season.

"Ah," she said. "It's a short ride to Ramsbury Park from Verwood. You can call on her when the family comes down for the summer." Likely, they would see little of Sir Adrian when the Haydon family arrived. It would be easy for Cassie to check any growing feelings for him. She had been enjoying their exchanges, and had perhaps even been in some danger of finding their tenant likable. Now she would know to keep her distance.

"That is my hope."

In the face of his happy besotted look, Cassie could say no more. She knew what it was to feel that sort of attachment to another. Sir Adrian seemed to suspect no danger, and perhaps there was none. He was strong. For him, love was not broken. He had business in the world. As Raven he had survived hardship. If Amabel failed to return his love, he would not give into melancholy. Cassie had no right to interfere in his affairs. Telling him that Hugh was Amabel's brother would be impertinent, too much like the sort of warning a person in love always ignored. She was hardly the one to instruct another in the conduct of a love affair.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing." Cassie would not interfere. However unpleasant Hugh's disposition, he would see the value of a very rich suitor for his sister. Sir Adrian could handle Hugh.

He gave her an assessing look. "Your face is full of something," he said. "You said you know your neighbors. Perhaps you know Lady Amabel."

"She is six years my junior, so she was not out when I was in my dancing days."

"Your dancing days?" One of his brows quirked up. "You can't be more than four and twenty. Are you going to tell me that you never dance?"

As soon as he said it, he looked conscious of the awkwardness of the topic. It was the closest he'd come to a mention of her foot. "I beg your pardon," he said. "That was impertinent of me."

She laughed. Let him think her foot was to blame. "Go. Meet your neighbors, but be prepared to dine out for the next fortnight."

He gave her a last questioning glance, made a quick bow, and strode off. At least three hopeful mamas waited with their offspring to meet him. Lady Brock got to him first.

When he stopped to talk with the Brock family, Cassie turned to find her grandmother's carriage gone. Grandmama had not waited. To abandon her granddaughter was an odd start even for Grandmama, but Cassie could not think what she'd done to get into Grandmama's black books this time.

Cassie stood for a moment under a dripping yew. She wasn't far from Verwood. She could easily walk even with her bad foot. In the church yard, families waited for their moment with Sir Adrian. When she turned toward the gate, there was Jay Kydd.

"Bluebell, we meet again," he said. "Where may I take you?"

"I can walk," she said. She could think of nowhere he could take her without exposing her identity.

"In all this mud? What if we simply go for a drive," he offered.

"Very well." She would think of somewhere to have him set her down. And they would have to avoid being seen in the village. "Can we take the Ramsbury road?"

He raised a brow, but handed her up into the carriage and offered her a lap rug. A memory came to mind of driving in the rain with Torrington, but she refused to let it take hold. She was not that girl. She was Bluebell, at least for the next hour. Mr. Kydd sprang up beside her and gave the horses their command. He was a neat driver, and the horses were a perfect pair. Riding with him was nothing like being jolted along in the inn gig.

Where the road forked at the edge of the village, he asked her opinion, and she pointed toward Lord Ramsbury's estate. It was the way most likely to be empty, passing for miles through property that had belonged to Verwood when Cassie was a child. Now those acres were devoted to Lord Ramsbury's game and roamed mainly by Ramsbury's shooting parties when the birds were in season, and by his gamekeepers, who had little to do with the village people.

She imagined Sir Adrian taking the same road soon, full of eagerness, and the knot in her stomach tightened. Cassie wished him no disappointment. She should perhaps have told him that Hugh was Amabel's brother, but she reminded herself that Sir Adrian was a man who didn't let much stand in his way. She raised her chin and let the rain-freshened air rush over her. She was Bluebell at the moment, enjoying a lark.

Before they reached Lord Ramsbury's gates, Mr. Kydd turned them around and slowed his horses. "Feel better?"

"I was not aware of feeling unwell," she said.

"You looked downright blue-deviled when we started."

She laughed. "Do you always say what you're thinking?"

"Mostly," he said. "I looked for you this week, but you gave me the slip."

"Weren't you occupied helping Sir Adrian?"

"For you, Bluebell, I would have made time. Didn't you miss me?"

"I was too busy." In truth she had been thoroughly occupied with helping Honoria arrange the jumbled pages of a draft.

"Who keeps you busy, I wonder? Her Grace?"

Cassie looked away to hide a smile. "No lady so grand as that."

"You know, Bluebell, with a little push I can learn your name. Wormley is a small village."

"Small? Wormley? That's a London man speaking. We have everything a village requires—a green, a shop, a butcher and a grocer, a smith, a vicar, an apothecary. How can you say we are a small village?"

"A vast hub of commerce, eh? But very few families."

"At least four and twenty."

"And where am I to place you in such a company?"

"You needn't place me at all." Mr. Kydd was clever and persistent, like his friend. But Cassie sensed that she was far more intriguing as Bluebell, a little mystery, while as Lady Cassandra Lavenham, she'd be an object of distant civility.

"Afraid of a scold from your employer for letting a flash cove from London take you up?"

"You have no idea."

"But you can't resist me, can you? You may be a bit out of fashion, but you speak like a lady, so I'm guessing you are governess to some spoiled miss who gives you her cast-off gowns."

She ought to be insulted, especially about the gowns, but for a mad moment Cassie wanted to seize the role he offered. Sense took over. "I would be a poor sort of governess if I deserted my charges after services to go driving with some fine gentleman."

"Fine gentleman? There's an elevation for you. Where's home?"

"A governess makes her home with her employer. But tell me, Mr. Kydd, aren't you off to London soon?"

"Ouch. You're that eager to be rid of me?"

"Just making sure not to be taken in by the charms of a practiced London flirt."

He laughed. "You see through me, do you?"

Maybe that explained her ease with him. He enjoyed teasing her, but his heart was not likely to be engaged. "I'm sure that in London, you'll soon forget your Bluebell."

"You wound me, but I'm off tomorrow. My uncle needs me in town, and Raven's horses have settled in nicely at Verwood. Only Her Grace's bad boy, Hermes, still has his doubts about the newcomers. Raven's bays will toss their heads and ignore him. They know their worth."

Cassie laughed again. Horses might not speak, but Mr. Kydd was right that they could show their feelings plainly and knew their places in the stable hierarchy. Grandmama's very spoiled horses, like the woman herself, looked down on lesser creatures. Mr. Kydd was only wrong that Hermes was a bad boy.

He shook his head, not looking at Cassie, plainly absorbed in thoughts about the horse. "That Hermes is as handsome a devil as I've seen in an age! Fifteen two or three hands. I'm working on Her Grace's man Snell to get his true story. It's a mystery, you see. Snell is tight-lipped, but he admitted that Hermes is out of the Darley Arabian. There might be some Galloway in him as well to give him his size. With that bloodline, he could be the making of the Verwood stud. He's young, no more than five, I'd say. He'd make a remarkable sire. There would be a demand for his get."

"Wouldn't he have to win some purses first? To gain notice?" Cassie asked.

Mr. Kydd gave her an arrested glance, and she was conscious of revealing too much knowledge of the workings of a stud. She had understood his quaint way of speaking of a stallion's get , which a village girl should not. She was grateful that Mr. Snell, Grandmama's head groom, was by nature taciturn. Hermes's history was Cassie's history. Once he heard their story, Mr. Kydd would stop flirting with Bluebell.

For a few minutes, a narrow, winding stretch of road required him to attend more to his driving than to her, but she knew he would come back to the mystery, and Cassie had to be careful not to give herself away. Bluebell could go driving with a fast gentleman from London, but Lady Cassandra Lavenham would be the talk of the village for the freedom she was enjoying.

As the road straightened out between open fields, Mr. Kydd returned to Hermes. Cassie smiled. If he gave his heart to anyone, it would be to a horse. "If I had the training of him, I wager he could race in one of the late July meets or by Lammas Day at the latest."

"So soon?" The idea startled her. She closed her hands around a fold of the lap rug. Cassie believed Hermes was past his racing days. The idea that Hermes could race again by the end of summer could not be right. If Hermes could race, then Cassie was to blame for Verwood's latest money woes. It was her accident that had led to Grandmama's decision. If Mr. Kydd was right, it was Cassie who had held them all back, reduced them to leasing Verwood. Surely, his overly optimistic temperament had led him astray. A horse, even one as powerful as Hermes, could not race so soon, not after three years of idleness. She looked up, suddenly conscious that he was watching her.

"Have the blue devils got you again?" he asked.

"Not at all. I think this drive has done me a world of good, thank you. Now, you may set me down." To a stranger there was nothing in the particular bend in the road, but beyond a copse of white hawthorn was a wooded path to Verwood. Cassie pulled the lap rug away and lay it across the back of the seat.

"What? I'm dismissed, am I?" He reined in his pair and looked about. "Here? What did I say?"

"You've said nothing amiss. I must return to my… people. Keep your horses in hand. I can manage." She climbed down with only a little twinge in her foot as it took her weight.

Mr. Kydd regarded her with a puzzled look. "You know, Bluebell, you are hard on a man's pride."

"But you, Mr. Kydd, have boundless self-assurance, and won't let one out-of-fashion country maiden flatten you."

He laughed. "You're not so easily rid of me. I have a standing invitation from Raven." He looked around once again. "You're sure of this place?"

She nodded.

He tipped his hat, and drove on.

Cassie waited until his carriage disappeared between the hedgerows, then she crossed the old plank over the ditch at the side of the road and slipped into the copse. She needed to walk. She had some serious thinking to do.