The Bluestocking's Dilemma Page 13

  “A fortunate thing, which must have demanded considerable tact on your part. Have no fear, I shall ensure that not a whisper of this reaches Lavvy’s ears,” he responded, correctly reading the mute appeal in Caro’s dark-fringed eyes.

  A brilliant smile lit up her face. “Famous! I knew I could count on you.” Her brow wrinkled worriedly as she continued, “I confess to some concern that I have an unsettling influence on the boys. Of course, I don’t wish to, but I do so want them to enjoy themselves.” Caro paused to reflect a moment, but then a thought struck her and she looked quizzically up at him. “I don’t suppose you know how to ride standing up on two horses,” she inquired hopefully.

  Nicholas burst out laughing. “You are incorrigible! Caught in a situation that would make most females faint with mortification at the mere thought of it, you not only exhibit no discomfiture, but you wish to ask how to accomplish something even more outrageous than you are already doing.”

  Caro had the grace to blush and hang her head. “I warned Lavvy how it would be. I told her it was no use for her to try to establish me in the ton for I should only come a cropper. Sometimes I wonder if I avoided society more because I knew I should lose my reputation before I even had gained one to lose, than because I disapproved of the vanity of its ways,” she confided.

  She looked so dejected at this dreadful admission that Nicholas had to smile once again. What an absurd child she was, so critical of society and critical in such a high-minded way that it made her subscribe to unpopular political principles, yet so kind that she would sacrifice her comfort to support Lavvy in her particular social aspirations, and lastly, so rigorous in her own moral system that she even questioned her own motivations. All the while she was blithely participating in the innocent amusements that so entertained Ceddie and Clarence and encouraged his shy sister to enjoy herself and share her very special talents. There was no question that Lady Caroline Waverly was an original, and he very seriously doubted that the world was ready for her. However, Nicholas himself was becoming more intrigued.

  “Do you really think you could ride both ponies, sir?” a young voice piped behind him. The marquess turned to find Ceddie looking up at him expectantly.

  “I don’t know.” Nicholas surveyed the two ponies, his shining Hessians, and then Caro, still slightly flushed from her exertions. There was no mistaking the challenging look in her eye. “But I expect I could if I took off my boots,” he replied nonchalantly.

  “ ‘Ere, I’ll take care of your boots, guv’nor. Won’t even get no smudges on them neither.” Grinning from ear to ear, Caro’s groom, Tim, strolled over leading the ponies.

  There was nothing for it but to prove himself. Suddenly the marquess felt absurdly youthful. The stableyard faded away and he saw himself on a dusty parade ground in Spain, cheering soldiers encouraging him. How alive he had felt then. How much more exciting life had been when each day it was one’s skill and daring that commanded attention and respect and not one’s rank or income.

  Vaulting lightly into the saddle, he caught the reins, tossed his boots to the waiting Tim, and pulled the ponies in until they were standing docilely side by side. Then, raising himself to a crouch, he gingerly placed one foot on the back of each pony and carefully straightened, keeping the ponies in check all the while. The onlookers held their breaths while he gently flicked the reins and set his mounts in motion, slowly at first until he had made one turn of the yard, and then faster until they began to trot. The audience, swelled by the addition of Dimmock and several lads from the neighboring stables broke into applause. The marquess stopped, bowed, and leapt gracefully down, forgetting entirely that he was in his stocking feet.

  “Hurrah! What a Trojan!” Ceddie burst out, while his brother’s eyes positively glowed with hero worship.

  “And I am entirely cast in the shade,” Caro complained, but she could not keep the admiration out of her voice. Indeed, the marquess had made an impressive picture, his lithe athletic figure perched effortlessly on top of the ponies, controlling them and attuning himself to their motion until the trio moved as one living being. She too had glimpsed for a moment the young soldier from so long ago and was delighted to see that the adventurous spirit had not entirely disappeared, but had merely been obscured by the responsibilities the marquess had been forced to take on. Caro stopped. Perhaps the assumption of these duties had been as onerous to him as her concession to Lavvy’s demands had been to her. Unexpectedly, Caro felt a rush of sympathy for the man who leaned over and ruffled her hair.

  “You’re young yet, Waif. Wait until you’ve had more practice. Why, when I was your age, I too could only ride one horse standing up. But I feel confident you’ll improve,” he teased, his blue eyes twinkling down at her.

  Looking up into them, Caro could not help thinking what a singularly attractive smile he had—no wonder that everyone from small boys to society’s most illustrious hostesses were drawn to him.

  “How did you know what to do? Could you show us?” The babble of eager questions broke in upon them.

  “Whoa! One question at a time. Don’t forget that I too have been to Astley’s, and at an even tenderer age than you. And I had a brother who was a good deal older than I who was already, to my great envy, allowed to ride a horse. So, desperate to prove to my father that I could ride, I practiced every day in the paddock at Everleigh with only a groom, who was sworn to secrecy.”

  The marquess continued to reminisce, explaining the method of his progression, but Caro no longer heard, too busy with her own thoughts, which were running in much the same vein as Nicholas’s had only a few minutes earlier. How different he was from the other people she had encountered in the ton. Why, he hadn’t so much as blinked an eyelash upon discovering her in male attire or indulging in a ridiculous activity that even most men above the age of fifteen would be embarrassed to be caught in. Not only had he made no comment, but he had immediately shed his own boots and entered in with a gusto that made it all that much more enjoyable for the rest of them. Caro was not even sure that Tony, madcap that he was, would have joined them so blithely and Tony, never one to claim that he had much in the old brain box, was someone whose ramshackle ways were already suspect.

  A loud halloo, which could only have come from the viscount himself, broke into these reflections. “Aha! I thought I should find you here. Wigmore told me you were riding, but as I had just come from the park, I knew he was having me on, the old devil. Why Lavvy must employ that stiff-rumped pillar of propriety, I haven’t the foggiest notion. It ain’t as though any of you has a shred of reputation to be ruined in the first place. And it ain’t as though I’d let slip that you were cutting up a lark. Why, I am more like to object that you did it without me, which I think was dashed churlish of you,” he complained, looking at them all with an injured air.

  “I do beg your pardon, Tony. I simply never thought . . .” Caro began.

  “How could you, Caro, when you know I’m always up for a bit of sport, especially here in town where life is so dashed flat.” He sighed lugubriously, but there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I see you kept your fencing clothes. You’d better not let Lavvy catch you in that rig if you know what’s good for you. Or me, for that matter,” he concluded darkly.

  “Uncle Tony, we’ve been practicing to ride like Mr. Ducrow, and Caro rode ‘round and ‘round standing on Prince’s back and then Lord Daventry came and he rode two horses standing up,” Ceddie interrupted eagerly.

  “O, Lord!” Tony looked rueful. “Now I am in the basket! Don’t let word of this get to your mother, lad. She’ll lay blame for it at my door for taking you to Astley’s and I shan’t be allowed to set foot here again.”

  “As if I would,” Ceddie began scornfully. Then, not wishing to exclude his beloved uncle from all the fun, he continued, “Would you like to have a go?”

  “What? After you’ve watched the likes of two such equestrians as Caro and Nicky? You must be all about in the head if you think I am
going to try to compete with them. I’ve my own reputation to maintain after all.” He peered at Nicky. “Taken to riding without boots, have you man? That ought to cut quite a dash in the park.”

  “Oh, Lord!” Nicholas looked rueful. “No, but I was so intent on maintaining my form that I quite forgot I was without them. Thank you.” He took the boots from Tim, who was eyeing the marquess with new respect. There was no doubt about it; his lordship was a proper gentleman all right, not one of those town beaux he had seen so much lately who were so obviously better acquainted with their tailors than their horses. Now, here was a man for her ladyship, the groom thought to himself.

  Though fully aware of Lady Caroline’s wish to remain independent and entirely respectful of that wish, Tim couldn’t help hoping that she would find someone who could share life with her. Miss Gray was a nice sort of lady, all very well as a companion for talking about books and such, but she was an indifferent rider and did not care about horses above half. The Countess’s brother could offer more sporting companionship, but anyone could see that he had nothing in his cock-loft and that would never do for his mistress who, as far as the groom could see, knew more than most men. Tim had seen the way the marquess, try though he would to fix his eyes elsewhere, had looked at Caro in her breeches, and he felt encouraged. In truth, Lady Caroline was a rare armful, but most people never stopped to consider it because she dressed so plainly and did so little to call attention to herself. For his part, Tim thought she was far more beautiful than his mistress’s cousin who spent half the day primping and fussing so that she looked more like an overdressed doll than a real woman. The groom smiled to himself. The situation would bear some watching. His mistress was as yet unconscious of all this, but she appeared to like the marquess well enough, and no female could be in the presence of such a fine figure of a man without being affected. Yes, this would definitely bear watching.

  Meanwhile, Clarence, silently observing the scene as he usually did, had worked his way over to his cousin. “Did Uncle Tony teach you to fence, Cousin Caro?” he asked shyly. Truly, there was no end to the surprises where this new relative was concerned.

  “Why, yes, he did.” Caro smiled down into the big blue eyes. “Whenever I visited at Mandeville Park, we would sneak into the barn where he very kindly initiated me into the intricacies of swordsmanship. But you mustn’t say anything about that to anyone.”

  “Whyever not?” Ceddie demanded. “If I could fight with swords, I should certainly want everyone to know.”

  “Yes, dear, but you are a boy and it’s all very well for boys to do such things, but the world frowns upon it if ladies do.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair. I am glad I am not a lady. They don’t have any fun,” Ceddie declared stoutly.

  “Precisely. But one is not allowed a great deal of choice in such matters,” his cousin replied.

  “You see, Ceddie, you must always make sure to see that the females of your acquaintance have as much fun as you do, and the world will be a better place for it,” a deep voice remarked.

  Caro whirled around to find the marquess, once again properly shod, standing next to her. “And do you shoot as well as fence, Waif?” he inquired with some amusement.

  “No,” she replied wistfully. “And as I’ve only just learned to fence with any sort of confidence, I . . .”

  “And a remarkably good swordswoman she is, too. You want to watch yourself with her, Nicky. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a quicker eye or a defter wrist,” Tony volunteered with pride. He fell silent a moment, frowning in concentration. “Needs to improve the footwork, though. Yes, that’s it.” His brow cleared. “She’s light enough on her feet, but not fast enough.”

  “If you possess a good eye and a steady hand, no doubt you will enjoy shooting a pistol. It isn’t as elegant as fencing, but there is a greater challenge to one’s concentration. I should be most happy to teach you,” Nicholas offered. Thinking about it, he could not be quite sure why he had. Certainly he had no wish to encourage a ferocious bluestocking to be even more eccentric than she already was, but there had been something about Tony’s possessive manner in speaking of Caro’s fencing prowess that had irked him. Not that he didn’t consider Tony to be the best of good fellows, but though a competent swordsman, he had been bested by Nicholas himself upon several occasions. Nor could the marquess imagine that someone who thought as seriously and deeply about things as Lady Caroline Waverly would have much to say to any purpose to someone whose lighthearted insouciance in the face of all disaster was legendary. The viscount was the best of companions if one were downing pints of ale at a mill, following the hunt, or looking for sport of any sort, but beyond that and his cheerful, handsome countenance, he had little to recommend him. It was difficult for Nicholas to fathom what Caro and Tony would have to talk about or why she should smile at him quite so fondly when he praised her swordsmanship.

  “Oh, thank you ever so much. I have been wanting to learn, but Tony was not very forthcoming.” Caro directed a teasing glance at her cousin. “And I did not like to ask. I should enjoy it of all things, but . . . but, how did you know?” Caro’s gray eyes were alight with expectation. Truly, she was as pleased and excited as if he had just given her a set of jewels. In fact, she was more delighted with this simple offer than his mistress, Suzette, had been by the diamond necklace he had recently bestowed on her. Caro’s happiness made Nicholas feel more fully appreciated than Suzette’s professions of gratitude had. Apologizing in his heart to Caro for such an unflattering comparison, he replied, “Something told me that a person who risks her neck riding erect on ponies and fencing with Tony would naturally be drawn to more dangerous sport, and the best way to keep such a person from coming to the bad end that seems inevitable is to ensure that they have an excellent teacher.’’ He raised a teasing eyebrow.

  Caro made a face. “And where ever are you going to find such an exemplary instructor?” she wondered.

  “You imp!” He laughed. “I have it on the best authority that Nicholas Daventry is accounted a fair shot. But more important, he is possessed of infinite patience.”

  “Oh, you couldn’t do better than Nicky,” Tony blithely assured her. “Why, he even beat Weatherby at Manton’s the other day.’’

  Caro appeared to consider, tilting her head to one side and scrutinizing the marquess. “Very well, then, but only if I truly am getting an expert.”

  “You are.” Nicholas grinned.

  Suddenly uncomfortable at having her wishes so easily divined and fulfilled, Caro reached over to rub Duke’s nose before glancing shyly up at the marquess. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I am truly grateful for, for . . .” She struggled for the words. What was it that touched her so about his offer? Was it that he treated her as a special person, that he seemed to understand Caro Waverly and to realize that her interests were different from those of other women? Was it that he accepted her odd quirks and appeared to like her, even respect her in spite of them? Or was it simply that he was offering her friendship, something that was very precious to one who had led such a solitary life? She sighed. It was too difficult to capture in a few words. “For so many things,” she finished lamely.

  Caro cursed her inarticulateness, but looking up into his face at last, she could see that Nicholas knew what she was trying so unsuccessfully to say. The grin had softened into a sympathetic smile and there was a look of appreciation, almost of fondness in his eyes as he replied, “You are most welcome.”

  They stood for several seconds this way, transfixed, as if isolated from the rest of the world by this mutual understanding and esteem. Then the irrepressible Ceddie broke in, “Pistols! Famous! Oh, Cousin Caro, how lucky you are,” he sighed enviously knowing that a mother who disapproved of dogs and ponies would never countenance such engines of destruction.

  Nicholas, hearing the sigh, was touched. “I am afraid Ceddie that you have not quite grown into them, but you are more than welcome to watch so that when your hand
s are a little larger, you will already have some feeling for the sport.”

  Ceddie was so ecstatic that, for once in his life, he was entirely bereft of speech and it was left to his cousin to say, “Thank you. Somehow you seem to anticipate all our wishes. You are most kind.”

  Nicholas looked up at the sun. He wanted to stay, to reassure her that he was not being kind, that he truly enjoyed her company, and that it made him happy to gratify such simple wishes, to watch faces and eyes light up with enthusiasm. He could see that for too long Caro and the boys had been unappreciated or misunderstood. The extraordinary pleasure they exhibited at the least offer of friendship was touching in the extreme. All of a sudden, the marquess found himself wanting to give them everything, in order to keep those looks of happiness forever on their countenances. Also, oddly enough, he wanted to thank them for including him in their escapade, for making him feel alive and appreciated for something besides his exalted place in the ton. The words would not come and he was forced to content himself with, “I shall look forward to it, but I must be off. I promised Holworthy I would spend the rest of the day going over accounts with him, but I did want to invite Lady Caroline, Lavinia, and Miss Gray to Guy Mannering tomorrow evening. I have convinced Mama and Clary to go and lured them with the promise that I would try to secure rational companionship for them.”

  Caro felt foolishly flattered. He truly did seem to wish for intelligent conversation, or else he would have spoken to Lavinia first. Since Lavinia had made no mention of such a thing, he must not have broached the subject with her. “Why, thank you. I can only speak for myself, of course, but I should be delighted.”

  “Good, then.” He leapt onto Caesar and, with a wave to the assembled company, headed off in the direction of Daventry House.