Amanda Scott (12 page)

“Would you like to learn?”

Melanie nodded, her eyes still wide. She looked down at the lake, then up at the house.

“Not here, goose. I have no wish for either of us to provide entertainment for the entire household. Do you know the pond in the home wood?”

Melanie nodded, but her eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown.

“Do the woods frighten you?” Emily asked. “I will be with you, you know.”

The frown disappeared, and Melanie tucked a small, thin hand into Emily’s.

Emily squeezed it. “’Tis too late today, but we will begin tomorrow after your lessons are done. Would you like to walk to the pond now just to see how nice it is?”

Melanie nodded again and, without taking her hand from Emily’s, walked beside her toward the stone bridge and the narrow path along the brook. Before they reached the path, however, two horsemen emerged from the woods on the road opposite them. Slowing their mounts at once, they waved, and Emily recognized Oliver and Saint Just. Remembering her intent to speak to the former, she waved back, gesturing for them to approach.

Obligingly the two young men clattered across the bridge. Both were laughing merrily.

“You look like a pair of schoolboys who’ve been up to mischief,” Emily told them, responding to their laughter with a wide smile of her own.

“Too right, ma’am,” Saint Just replied with a grin. “Dashed if it don’t feel like I’ve returned to my schooldays at that.”

Oliver regarded her with a look half of laughter, half of defiance. “You won’t squeak beef on us, will you, Aunt Emily?”

“We’d never do such a shameful thing, would we, Melanie?”

The little girl shook her head.

“There, you see? Now, tell us, just what dreadful thing have you done?”

Oliver waved a pair of buckskin breeches, a shirt, and a top boot at her that he had been concealing on the off side of his horse. Saint Just, in turn, revealed a dark brown coat, a long white cloth, and a second boot.

For a long moment Emily stared from one young man to the other, bewildered. Then, glancing toward the woods, she gave a little gasp of comprehension. “You didn’t!”

“We did,” Oliver said smugly. “Cousin Jack likes to take a swim before dinner on the days he dines with us, and I remembered that little fact when we were riding through the wood just now. We left our horses and crept up on the pond as silently as a couple of poachers, and there he was, swimming back and forth, his clothes piled neatly and most temptingly on a nearby rock. He didn’t so much as catch a glimpse of us.”

“We thought about leaving him a horse,” said Saint Just virtuously, “but after some small discussion, we decided that he would not properly appreciate such a handsome gesture.”

“Afraid to risk it, I daresay,” Emily said, thinking swiftly. “Look here, Mr. Saint Just, will you allow me a moment alone with Oliver? There is something of a private nature about which I must speak to him at once.” When Saint Just nodded, she smiled down at Melanie. “We will see the pond tomorrow, dearest. I don’t think that now is a good time to do so, after all.”

Melanie actually smiled. “No, Aunt Emily,” she said demurely.

Chuckling, Emily gave her a little hug. “You go along with Mr. Saint Just, my dear, like a proper lady with a proper gentleman escort. And, Mr. Saint Just,” she added as that gentleman dismounted from his horse, “will you oblige me once more by giving Oliver those of the stolen garments that you retain in your keeping?”

As soon as Saint Just and Melanie had walked far enough away to preclude their overhearing him, Oliver said testily, “Look here, Aunt Emily, I hope you ain’t meaning to tell me to put these clothes back, for I won’t do it. Sure as check he’s discovered they’re missing by now, and I’d as lief not have to face him until he’s had time enough to regain at least a small portion of his temper.”

“Do hush, Oliver. I have no intention of forcing you to face your Cousin Jack or to confess this prank to him. But you ought to know at once that Dolly has informed him of your intention to attend the York assembly as well as your agreement to take her with you, so he is already displeased with you. The plan simply won’t do, Oliver. Indeed, it will not.”

Oliver flushed. “Dolly’s tongue is a great deal too busy. She ought to have kept it tight behind her teeth.”

“Oliver,” Emily said quietly, “Dolly would be ruined if you were to allow such a thing. Not only by attending the assembly when she is expected to observe half-mourning for at least another five months, but for attending with only your escort and that of Mr. Saint Just. When she appears in public for the first time, it must be with her mama or with another suitable lady companion, not with—”

“With a couple of rag-mannered, half-baked fribbles?”

Emily grinned at him. “Exactly so, although I would never have described you so uncivilly.”

“Daresay you wouldn’t, but Harry Enderby ain’t so nice in his notions as you are. Called me those things and worse while we was out shooting today. Called Dolly worse things, for that matter, when I told him that she and Saint Just had cooked the notion up between them. I shan’t call Harry out for what he said, though. Practically my brother, Harry is, and he was in a flaming temper at the time. Luckily Saint Just and Bennett had ridden on ahead for a moment to speak to their loaders, although I doubt Harry’d do anything so improper as to take Saint Just to task over a thing like that.”

“Mr. Enderby sounds like a sensible young man,” said Emily. “I do hope—”

“Oh, I’ve already told Saint Just the scheme won’t answer, and I mean to speak to Dolly too.” He glanced unhappily toward the home wood. “Wish she’d had the sense to keep silent, though.”

“Your cousin has expressed a desire to speak with you,” Emily said gently, “but I doubt that he will stay angry once he learns of the decision you have come to on your own. Nonetheless, I do think your conversation will march more smoothly if you do not confess this prank to him.”

“Good God, I should think so!”

“Perhaps if you were to give me his clothes,” Emily suggested, “I could take them back to the pond and explain that I found them where some unknown prankster dropped them.”

“By Jupiter, that’s the very thing,” said Oliver approvingly. “Only, what if … that is, I mean, well, what if he should be … you know …” He paused delicately.

“What if he has got out of the pond?” Emily said helpfully.

Oliver nodded.

“I shall make a great deal of noise when I approach,” she said firmly.

The buckskins and coat alone were heavy enough to be cumbersome, and there were also his boots, shirt, neckcloth, and small clothes. Emily felt weighted down as she made her way along the narrow trail beside the brook, and since her load prevented her from seeing the ground directly beneath her feet, it was as well that she had no objection to announcing her approach. Even so, as she neared the dam at the end of the pond, she called out, “Jack, where are you?”

“Behind you,” came the grim response, easily audible above the noise of the water as it spilled in streams of varied widths through the small openings in the rock-and-log dam and tumbled onto the rocks below.

Emily froze. “Are you … that is—”

“Don’t turn around unless you have a strong desire to become better acquainted with the finer points of male anatomy,” he replied, still grim. “What made you change your mind about this little prank of yours, anyway?”

“Of mine?”

“Oh, surely you won’t deny it. I’ll confess my first thought was that Giles had come along on his way back from the vicarage—”

“He returned to the Priory some time ago, I believe.”

“I know, so that leaves you.” His voice was soft when he added, “Did you act too impulsively, my dear, and forget until afterward that I make it a practice to retaliate in kind?”

A frisson of fear raced up her spine. “I brought your clothes back to you, Jack. I didn’t take them.”

“Then who did?”

She swallowed. “I … I found them.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Emily. You expect me to believe that you found a pile of men’s clothes, knew they were mine, and knew exactly where to find me? You called my name, you know, so you couldn’t have been searching for some unknown owner.”

She wanted to turn around. She needed time to think. Determined though she was not to give Oliver away, she had come to know Jack well enough to believe him entirely capable of the most outrageous behavior. If he decided to punish her, she had not the least doubt that she would fervently wish he hadn’t. Striving to keep her voice calm, she said, “If you don’t want your clothes, I can simply take them away again.”

“And how far do you suppose you would get?”

She was standing near the dam, and she was sure she could run across to the other side. She had crossed it barefoot safely enough, and although she wasn’t sure her sandals wouldn’t betray her, she doubted that Jack would really chase her through the woods in all his no doubt splendid masculine glory.

In order to get a better idea of how close he was, she said, “Couldn’t we call a truce?”

“Seems, from your point of view, to be a good time to do that, does it?” He was not too close, but she knew he could close the distance quickly if he were not first somehow diverted. “Put my clothes down, Emily,” he said sternly. “We will discuss this matter more thoroughly once I’ve dressed.”

“Very well.” She took two steps nearer the dam; then, scarcely pausing to draw breath, she flung the armful of clothing as far as she could fling it into the pond, snatched up her skirts, and ran. The bellow of rage behind her lent wings to her feet, and they scarcely seemed to touch the rocks and logs of the dam as she sped across. She nearly slipped once just before she reached the other side, but fear that Meriden was right behind her held her upright and she made it safely to the other shore, dodging past trees and through shrubbery as she pelted for the road. She didn’t stop running, however, until she reached the gardens in front of the house.

Breathless, she looked back over her shoulder, half-expecting to see a large naked man erupting in fury from the woods. But the landscape was reassuringly devoid of human life.

Tempted to order her dinner served in the safety of her bedchamber, Emily hurried up the drive and into the house. The first person she encountered, in the empty hall where he had clearly been waiting for her, was Oliver.

“Did you find him?” he demanded. “Did you give his clothes back?”

“He thought I took them,” she gasped, still breathless. “He wouldn’t believe I just found them.”

“Oh, Lord.” Oliver clapped a hand to his artfully tousled head. “What did he say? No, don’t tell me. I can guess.”

“I daresay you can; however, it was not what he said but what he was going to do to me that frightened me silly,” Emily told him frankly. “I had to throw his clothes into the pond in order to get away from him.”

“You what?”

“I thought he would care more just then for his boots than for revenge,” she explained.

“You threw everything—” Words failing him, Oliver looked at her in awe. Then suddenly, as they stared at one another, the whole thing struck them as funny. Sabrina, appearing by the gallery railing at the top of the stairs a moment later, demanded to know what on earth had cast the pair of them into conniption fits.

Containing herself with difficulty, Emily looked up at her and gasped, “It is nothing, love, only a foolish joke.” Looking back at Oliver, she added on another choke of laughter, “It’s the second pair of boots. What a rage he will be in!”

“If he should come to dinner …” Oliver could not continue. Gales of merriment overcame him once again.

“Emily,” Sabrina said tartly, “if you do not intend to explain this odd behavior to me, then I suggest that you tidy yourself. You’ve got branches caught in your hair.” So saying, she turned away and disappeared into the drawing room.

Ruefully Emily reached up and pulled a small leafy twig from her curls. When Oliver chuckled again, she wrinkled her nose at him. “Odious boy. This is all your doing. I shall expect exemplary behavior from you in future. And I hope you will provide a handsome wreath for me after your cousin catches me. Roses for my tombstone, and perhaps—”

“Unless he comes to dinner,” Oliver said, still chuckling, “you needn’t fear so tragic an end. If he’d caught you at once, of course …” He raised his gaze expressively to heaven, then shook his head, adding, “But once the first heat of his anger has passed, he will do no more than shout a bit, I daresay.”

“You can have no notion how much your words comfort me,” Emily said wryly. “What you mean to say is that unless he storms this house in search of me within the hour, I’ve got only sound and fury to endure. Is that it?”

“Something like.” Oliver grinned at her.

With a final, expressive grimace, Emily went upstairs to her bedchamber to find Martha waiting for her. The tirewoman clicked her tongue in disapproval of her mistress’s appearance, particularly when a rent was discovered in her gown, but Emily’s hair required no more than a good brushing, and once her face had been washed, her gown and sandals changed, and her pearl necklace clasped around her neck, she was able to repair to the dining room the very picture of a young lady of fashion.

She had not thought again about the advisability of ordering a tray carried to her bedchamber, having decided that she would not seek the coward’s way out. Nonetheless, she did not scorn to breathe a sigh of relief when Meriden did not appear at the dinner table.

“Inconsiderate of him not to have told us,” Miss Lavinia observed. “Like them all. Did think he might be a cut above the rest, but I expect that would have been asking too much.”

Sabrina expressed her belief that something must have occurred to keep him away. This was followed by a vaguely worded hope that he had not met with an accident.

Dolly grimaced but didn’t say anything, and Oliver winked at Emily, who attempted to frown him down while struggling with suppressed mirth. She carefully avoided his gaze for some moments thereafter and was exceedingly grateful when Mr. Saint Just introduced a perfectly harmless topic of conversation. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully.