Sandford led his horse into the stableyard and Tiptree came running at the sound of his master’s voice. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of the dishevelled figure being helped down from Sandford’s mount, but he said nothing as he took the reins and the mud-stained blanket from the viscount.
‘Don’t put him away,’ Sandford instructed. ‘I shall need him again. Get Thunder saddled for yourself. I’ll be back presently.’ He escorted Harriet through the rear of the house to the foot of the staff staircase.
‘Come up this way,’ he said. ‘The kitchen staff will be at lunch. I’ll head off anyone who appears.’
Harriet reached her room unobserved and, as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she slumped down on to the nearest chair, regardless of the mess she was making, for she was utterly chagrined. What else could go wrong? she wondered. The morning had started so well and she had enjoyed her time with Beldale. The lakeside walk had been so pleasant until that incident. A puzzled frown creased her forehead. What was the meaning of it? It was no accident, of that she was convinced, but could see no point in what had occurred. Just a malicious prank? But, to what purpose? And, more infuriating, why had Sandford dismissed her story out of hand? Oh, if only her grandfather would reply to Lady Caroline’s letter! Harriet felt that she could no longer remain at Beldale under such a cloud and wondered if she could confide her troubles to Judith Hurst. In spite of Sandford’s instructions she was tempted to ask her new friend’s advice should a suitable opportunity arise.
During the next few days Harriet did her utmost to avoid Sandford’s company. She spent much of her time with the earl, who enjoyed her pretty attentions and was making steady progress towards a full recovery. She managed to take one or two rides about the park and to visit Judith, but only when she was sure that Sandford was elsewhere. She was obliged to take her meals with him, of course, but made sure she had a fund of Lord William’s stories to relate to the countess so that it became unnecessary to hold a separate conversation with the viscount. Sandford himself appeared not to notice her evasive behaviour and, in any event, always seemed deeply preoccupied with estate business. To Harriet’s relief, he made no further reference to the lake incident. Harriet had decided not to tell her hostess the full story of her misadventure, merely saying that she had slipped on the bank whilst trying to untie the boat. Lady Caroline had, at first, been rather shocked that Harriet had not asked a manservant to row her to the pavilion, then she had laughed and said, ‘You modern young ladies! You have so much more freedom than we did in my day. I envy you, I do truly!’ And the matter was forgotten.
At last the letter for which Harriet had been praying arrived. Rothman delivered it to her ladyship at the breakfast-table and the countess broke open the seal eagerly.
‘How quickly he has replied,’ she said, as she scanned the contents. ‘Yes, he says he has written at once—you are to remain with us—he is actually coming to fetch you himself! He says he is overjoyed—and forever in our debt—what nonsense—but how sweet! Oh, my dear! Your troubles will soon be over!’ She placed the missive into Harriet’s trembling hand. ‘There, my child. You may read it for yourself. Your grandfather will be with us in no time at all if all goes well with his travel arrangements,’ and, turning to Sandford, she said, ‘Isn’t this happy news, Robert? Ramsey will surely come to his granddaughter’s rescue now that he knows her whereabouts, don’t you think?’
Sandford nodded, but did not reply. He felt a sudden lowering of spirit for which he could not account and stared moodily across the table at Harriet, but she was still deeply engrossed in her grandfather’s words. Excusing himself, he quickly finished his coffee and left the room.
‘We must go and tell Beldale the good news,’ said the countess. ‘He will be so happy for you—and glad to see Ramsey again, I dare say—if only to compare the wrinkles!’
Harriet laughed joyfully. She was feeling euphoric, hardly believing that her dream was finally about to become a reality. How long would it take her grandfather to travel to Beldale? Two weeks, perhaps. She could surely hold out until then, now that she knew he was actually coming. Then she was struck by a sudden thought.
‘But—Judith’s party?’ she inquired of the Countess. ‘We must inform her before it is too late to cancel. It will not be necessary to pretend an engagement now, surely?’
Lady Caroline hesitated on the stairway, considering the problem.
‘On balance, my dear,’ she said at last, ‘I think it would be wiser to wait until your grandfather arrives—supposing he were delayed? Remember that we conjured up the plan in order to prevent unsavoury gossip. It is still the best protection we can offer you until he comes. Judith’s guests will have seen the notice in the Mercury and it will not do to start up a hive of speculation so soon after the announcement. Don’t worry, dear child. It’s only a small local party, after all.’
And with this she continued up the stairs.
Harriet was perturbed, but did not mention the subject again. She knew that the countess had gone to considerable trouble to keep other members of the family away from Beldale House, using Lord William’s indisposition as an excuse even to her own two daughters, who had been besieging her with requests to visit their father. Harriet had been relieved to learn that she was not expected to come under Sandford’s sisters’ scrutiny, as she doubted that her acting ability would pass muster under such close inspection. Casual observation by a few local families at a small houseparty would be much less of a trial, she decided. She determined to put away her fears and do her best to look forward to the forthcoming assembly, reasoning that Sandford was unlikely to accord her anything other than the devoted attentions of the newly engaged man he was supposed to be, especially since the plan seemed to have been concocted with his approval. After that, as far as she was concerned, he could please himself!
Chapter Four
Sandford stood at the entrance to the Dower House with a frown on his face. He was not looking forward to confronting his aunt with his discovery and, on being shown into Lady Eugenie’s morning room, he saw that his cousin Ridgeway was also present and resigned himself to an uncomfortable few moments.
Ridgeway saluted him from his seat at the desk and Lady Eugenie smiled at him in welcome.
‘Why, Robert,’ she said, holding out her hand for his kiss. ‘This is indeed a pleasant surprise—but your father—’ her voice grew anxious ‘—he has not taken a turn for the worse?’
The tiny, birdlike Lady Eugenie was a sweet and gentle soul who had suffered a very unhappy marriage to a man who had married her only for her considerable dowry and name. He had treated her monstrously, flaunting both debts and mistresses with total disregard for her sensitivities. When he had finally taken his life she had felt nothing but relief and had dedicated the succeeding thirty years to charitable works. Her brother’s pensioner, she had no money of her own, but gave her time unstintingly to any deserving organisation that approached her, from orphans’ relief to support for fallen women. The meagre staff she employed at the Dower House consisted entirely of waifs and outcasts rescued from disaster by her ladyship. Ridgeway jokingly predicted that they would one day be found murdered in their beds but, secretly, he was immensely proud of his mother’s achievements and her entire household was devoted to both the baroness and her son.
Sandford, having assured his aunt of the earl’s continued improvement, stood undecided momentarily, abstractedly tapping his crop against his boot.
Ridgeway, attending to some paperwork, raised his head at the sound and looked at Sandford curiously.
‘Problem, coz?’ he asked cheerfully.
The viscount nodded. ‘Rather tricky, Charles, actually.’
Ridgeway’s face grew serious and he rose at once to his feet. ‘Let’s have it then, Robert—and