The Bluestocking's Dilemma Page 10

  Nicholas was entirely correct in his picture of the little group. In fact, Helena was the only one not hanging breathlessly over the edge of the box as Mr. Ducrow, in the manner of Philip Astley himself, was prancing around the ring perched on the bare backs of two horses and looking for all the world as though he were doing nothing more unusual than walking in the park.

  “How can he do such a thing!” Caro gasped.

  The viscount grinned. “Practice, and a great deal of it, I should say, though you can see it is owing as much to the training of the horses as the skill of the rider. Magnificent beasts, aren’t they?”

  “But how do the horses know what to do? They can’t talk, so how do they know?” Ceddie piped up.

  “Oh, Mr. Ducrow knows how to talk to them, lad, never fear,’’ his uncle assured him.

  “He does?’’ Ceddie was round-eyed.

  “Well, after all, you talk to Argos, don’t you,” Caro replied reasonably. “He knows when he is not supposed to do something. I expect Mr. Ducrow began with his horses in a very similar fashion.”

  “Oh.” Ceddie digested this thoughtfully before continuing in a wistful little voice. “I wish Mama would let us have ponies.”

  “Your mama loves you very much and, as she is not a great rider herself, perhaps she is afraid you will hurt yourself on a pony,” Caro responded, defending her cousin. Privately, she thought it had more to do with the countess’s wish to have two docile children who were both clean and always at her beck and call. Caro vowed that she would continue to see that Ceddie and his brother were allowed to live more as little boys and less as accoutrements to their beautiful mother.

  Chapter 12

  Caro had reckoned without the Marquess of Everleigh in her plan to win Ceddie and Clarence more freedom. The very next morning at an unfashionably early hour she was sitting in the breakfast room perusing the Times and drinking her coffee—much to the disgust of Susan, who stoutly maintained that one was not a true lady unless one had one’s morning chocolate in bed—when the marquess was announced. “Oh goodness!” Caro strove madly to straighten her dishevelled curls, but not before the marquess had seen her struggling to smooth them and pin them in some sense of order.

  He grinned. There was something very comfortable about coming in on a woman this way, knowing that she was completely herself, at ease and absorbed in something that interested her instead of having her enter beautifully gowned and coiffed with everything arranged in a manner designed to appeal to him. Actually, he reflected, he saw his mother and sister this way quite often, but it was so refreshing and somehow delightfully intimate to discover someone entirely unrelated to him in this state.

  Nor did Caro blush and dissemble or make vain excuses when she was surprised thus. Looking him straight in the eye, she remarked in a friendly fashion, “Good morning, my lord. Would you care for some coffee? I presume you have had breakfast, for no Englishman worthy of the name would stir abroad without it. However, if you have not, or would like a second helping, I should be happy to request some bacon and eggs. I expect the boys to be in at any moment and they, of course, will be simply ravenous.”

  Nicholas took the chair she indicated. “Thank you. As you have so correctly divined, I have been treated to a more than ample repast already, but I should like some coffee.”

  “Very well then, so should I. And I think, as I detect my cousins’ gentle tread upon the stairs, that I shall order something substantial enough to keep them quiet. I . . .”

  The pounding of feet cut her short and two fair-haired bundles of energy rushed into the room. “Cousin Caro, Cousin Caro, do you think we could go for a drive in the park today and do you think Dimmock would let me hold the reins for a little while?” Ceddie burst out.

  Caro smiled. “Why, believe he could be persuaded to do so. But come, have some breakfast and say good morning to our visitor.’’

  “Good morning, sir,” the boys chorused before plunging into enormous plates of eggs and bacon that the footman had brought in along with the fresh pot of coffee he set in front of Caro.

  “Good morning.” The marquess accepted the steaming cup of coffee Caro handed him. “I am particularly pleased that you lads are here because I came to Grosvenor Square expressly to see you. I have brought something that I think you might find amusing.”

  “You brought something for us?” Clarence found it difficult to believe that a personage as exalted as the Marquess of Everleigh had even noticed two small boys, much less spared them a second thought.

  Less bashful than his older brother, Ceddie was not going to allow himself to be impressed until he knew more. “Thank you very much sir, but what did you bring us?” he demanded cautiously.

  Nicholas grinned. Ceddie was nobody’s fool, and he was not about to be won over so easily. Obviously, he had been offered useless gifts before from adults eager to win his favor.

  “Oh, I expect it will meet with your approval, but I am afraid you must step outside,” he replied airily.

  “Outside?” three voices echoed and three pairs of eyes were riveted on him. Ceddie was encouraged. This seemed more promising and in truth, all along he had never doubted that the marquess was a regular Trojan.

  “Yes. Come along, that is, after you’ve finished your breakfast.’’ But before the marquess had even completed his sentence the boys were out the door, leaving their plates virtually untouched.

  “May I come too?” Caro wondered. “I confess that you have piqued my curiosity quite as much as the boys’.”

  “But of course.” Nicholas stood aside as she hurried out, only a shade less eagerly than her cousins.

  “Ponies!” Caro echoed the ecstatic exclamations of Ceddie and Clarence as she stepped through the door held open by a disapproving Wigmore.

  “Cousin Caro, Cousin Caro, just look what he has brought us!” Ceddie bounded back up the steps to urge his cousin along.

  No less excited than his brother, Clarence beamed. “Thank you, sir. They are the most bang-up present anyone has ever given us. How did you know we’d been longing for ponies forever?”

  Nicholas’s blue eyes twinkled. “Call it a lucky guess.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir, ever so much.” Ceddie, halfway down the stairs again, remembered his manners and came rushing back. “But,”—his small face clouded—”what will Mama say?”

  Nicholas laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You leave your mama to me. I feel certain I can persuade her to see the wisdom of allowing her sons to become bruising riders. Now off with you, and mind you check them on all points to see that they are the fine horseflesh their owner assured me they were.”

  The marquess turned to find Caro looking at him, a bemused expression on her face. He cocked a quizzical brow.

  “How,” she paused in some confusion, “how very kind you are,” she murmured huskily. Somehow she could not find words adequate for the feelings washing over her at the moment. Nothing could quite express her surprise that such a man of affairs as the Marquess of Everleigh should take the time to notice two small boys, much less divine their dearest wish and then fulfill it. It was nothing short of extraordinary. The man was a strange mixture: arrogant canal builder, a man-about-town who was by turns satiric and appreciative of her beautiful cousin’s machinations, someone of obvious intelligence, yet one who despised bluestockings. But he was also an affectionate brother, and now a champion and friend of the young Welhams. Caro wanted to say more, to tell him how much she admired him for this generous gesture but, for once in her life, she found herself at a total loss.

  As she stood there trying to collect her thoughts, the door swung open again and Lavinia appeared. “Good heavens, what a commotion! I could even hear the noise in my dressing room,” she complained in a peevish tone, which altered considerably the minute she caught sight of the marquess. “Why, Nicholas, whatever are you doing here?” Though accustomed to being the object of slavish attention, the beauty did have her standards, and they did not inclu
de admirers who appeared on one’s doorstep before the middle of the afternoon.

  “Mama, Mama, look what the marquess has brought us!” Ceddie could bear the suspense no longer and, preferring that matters be brought to a head sooner rather than later, he pointed to the curved drive where two glossy chestnut ponies stood docilely surveying their new home.

  Observing the frown beginning to cloud her cousin’s brow, Caro deemed it time to intervene. “How fortunate for you. Cousin, that you have an admirer who takes such a fatherly interest in your boys. After all, a gentleman must be an accomplished rider and I am sure neither you nor I would have the least notion how to begin to find mounts for Ceddie and Clarence, much less teach them.” Caro spoke hastily, completely disregarding for the moment the existence of Uncle Tony who would have been eminently suited to the task.

  The frown was replaced by a speculative expression and then, as the full import of Caro’s words sank in, a delighted smile lit up Lavvy’s face as she swept over to Nicholas. “Of course, you are in the right of it. How dreadfully stupid of me, but I do so worry about my boys as they are all I have.” She allowed her voice to break pathetically before continuing. “Thank you, Nicky.” Laying her hand on his arm she looked up at the marquess, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  Unimpressed by this byplay, but vaguely suspecting that somehow Cousin Caro had made everything all right again, Ceddie broke in, “Does that mean we can keep them?”

  “Yes, dear, you may keep them.”

  “Hooray! Hooray! I am going to call mine Duke.” And Ceddie skipped down the steps to share the wonderful news with his brother.

  “Come Lavvy,” the marquess started down the steps toward the boys, who were becoming acquainted with their new friends. ‘ Let me reassure you as to the quality of these animals.”

  “Oh, I trust your judgment implicitly,” she replied hastily, remaining firmly fixed on the top step as Nicholas had known she would. Even as a child, Lavinia had never had any use for horses—nasty things that snorted, stamped, and made one dirty. Then, having satisfied herself as to the cause of the disturbance, and wishing to continue the toilette which had been so rudely interrupted, she turned towards the door.

  “Come, let us look at the ponies.” Nicholas turned to place a firm hand under Caro’s elbow, shepherding her out of earshot. “Thank you for coming so quickly to the boys’ defense. It was cleverly done, but certainly has left me with a great deal on my plate.”

  Though it had been quickly suppressed, Caro had seen the horrified expression on the marquess’s face when she made her remark and she had been highly amused. In truth, she had been unaccountably relieved at his patent dismay over being cast in the role of the boys’ stepfather. “But I thought I was helping you as well.” She gazed up at him, her gray eyes wide and innocent.

  Nicholas was not fooled in the least. “You thought no such thing, my girl, and well you know it. All you were concerned with was choosing the best strategy to win Lavvy’s approval of my gift and I give you your due. You were brilliant. However, I do not relish the role of sacrificial lamb.”

  Caro chuckled. “Pooh! I have seen how you work things to your advantage. I have not the slightest doubt that you are well able to take care of yourself.”

  “In the main, yes,” he admitted, “but I doubt my abilities to withstand the machinations of two beautiful women.”

  Caro stared. No one had ever called her beautiful before, even in jest, and though she didn’t believe it for a moment, she realized that nobody had ever even bothered to offer her Spanish coin either. It was a novel experience and she was not at all sure how she felt about it.

  For his part, as he watched her expression and detected the delicate blush that tinged Caro’s cheeks, the marquess was both amused and touched that such a casual remark had elicited such a response. Most women took such compliments as their due, expected them, in fact. Few females of his acquaintance would have even noticed that he had called them beautiful or given it a second thought. Not only was Caro thinking about it, she was shaking her head in disbelief.

  All of a sudden, Nicholas found himself wanting to reassure that she was beautiful, as beautiful as her cousin and with far more reason because her heart matched the promise of her lovely face with its wide gray eyes and generous mouth. But he knew that such reassurances would only serve to make her more uncomfortable. Smiling down at her, he continued, “But come, I really do want your opinion of these ponies. Tony says you are an exacting judge of horseflesh. I hope they meet with your approval.”

  “I am certain they will. Having seen your own cattle, I trust you completely.” Caro glanced up to encounter such a look of understanding that she was completely taken aback. Truly, the man sometimes appeared to be omniscient—recognizing the boys’ fondest wish and now noticing her confusion and helping her to recover. She had not expected such a thing. Most of the men she encountered were either overbearing like Colonel Folliot-Smythe or blithely unconscious like the viscount. But here was someone at least as skilled at all the masculine pursuits as they were, but possessed of intuitive powers she had hitherto known only in a few women. Caro was intrigued in spite of herself.

  “Come see, come see.” Ceddie, impatient with their slowness, had come running back and was now tugging Caro towards the newly christened Duke.

  She ran a practiced eye over the shiny chestnut flanks, the strong neck, and the dark intelligent eyes before gently stroking the soft nose. The pony whickered and she bent down to get a look at its mouth.

  “Well?” The marquess prompted her.

  “You have done excellently well, and to find two so remarkably similar. It was extraordinarily well thought of on your part. No matter how amicable the relationship between Ceddie and Clarence, it is bound to be strained if they are treated differently.”

  “Thank you. Though the credit for locating them must go to my coachman, Watkins. I did look them over thoroughly, but I merely seconded his choice,” Nicholas replied modestly.

  Caro liked the marquess better for this disclaimer, but her attention was immediately claimed by the more practical Clarence who wondered, “But we have not the slightest notion how to ride. And where will we keep them?”

  “Have no fear,” the marquess assured him. “Before I embarked on this impulsive gesture, I spoke to John Coachman, who not only made sure that he had ample stabling but insisted that he or one of the other lads would be delighted to take you to the park for lessons any time you wished. If the truth be told, I believe he would infinitely prefer that to driving your mother’s carriage. I thought we might begin tomorrow morning by meeting in the park. My sister delights in driving there, but she prefers an unfashionable hour when it is not so crowded that one can barely move.” The marquess turned to Caro. “Will you join us? I feel certain that as a reluctant Londoner, you have brought your own mount, but if you need one, I shall be happy to supply you with one from my stable.”

  Caro thanked him, assuring him that even had she not been able to ride him in London, she would have wanted Xerxes with her simply because she could not be gone so long from such an old friend and she had been eager to get out ever since Tim had returned to London with her mount.

  Seeing that the boys were on the best of terms with their new companions, and confident of Lavinia’s begrudging acceptance of the new additions to her household, the marquess fixed a time for meeting in the park and then rode off, congratulating himself on a morning’s work well done.

  Chapter 13

  They were up betimes the next morning in Grosvenor Square. Ceddie and Clarence, who had been practicing the previous day in the stableyard, were bursting to show the marquess the progress they had made and scarcely allowed Caro a minute to swallow her coffee before they were charging off to find Dimmock to bring round the horses. It was a glorious day with sun glinting off newly washed flowers and trees, and the air was fresh with the promise of spring— a perfect day for a ride. But the boys, interested only in th
eir newly acquired ponies, were oblivious to it all.

  “See, Cousin Caro, I don’t even need a block to get on Duke,” Ceddie declared proudly as he swung himself into the saddle.

  Caro laughed as she allowed Dimmock to throw her up, “Already you put me to shame.”

  “Oh, but that’s because Xerxes is a stallion. I wager he is as large as the marquess’s horse,” the little boy replied admiringly. Count on Cousin Caro to have a real horse and not some tame mare appropriate for a lady.

  Much the same thoughts were going through Nicholas’s mind as he watched the trio approach. Xerxes had not been ridden for days and he was itching for a gallop, sidling restlessly as Caro kept him in pace with the ponies. Watching the firmness with which she handled the huge black stallion, the marquess was impressed in spite of himself.

  “What a magnificent horse! You must be a splendid rider to keep such an animal in check.” Leaning out of the carriage to greet them, Clarissa Daventry gave voice to her brother’s thoughts.

  “Why, thank you. At the moment, Xerxes is a bit impatient, but in general he is the most complete gentleman and makes me look far more skilled than I truly am,” Caro replied. “But speaking of accomplishments, I understand that you study the pianoforte with Signor Clementi. One hears praise of him even in the depths of the country. You must be very talented to have such a teacher.”

  “Oh, no.” Clarissa blushed. “I am the veriest amateur, who enjoys music immensely and, leading the circumscribed life that I do, perhaps devotes more time to practice than others who possess more natural abilities.”