An Inconvenient Wife (37 page)

Anne’s half-hearted smile
faded as she settled onto the cushions. She prayed St. Clair was right, but
could not help thinking that if today was any indication, Nicholas felt
otherwise. Brooding about it, however, served no purpose but to dampen her
spirits. More like a deluge, Anne grumped to herself, smoothing her face into
what she trusted was a pleasant expression as they turned onto Westhorp’s
drive.

She greeted Martin with an
equanimity she certainly did not feel. All she wanted was to retire to her
room, preferably alone, where she could indulge in a childish display of temper
and a refreshing bath in Westcott’s enormous bathtub.
And it would serve him
right if you managed to be in it when he came up.
Or you might
‘accidentally’ walk in on him, offer to wash his back.

Quickly dismissing the
picture of Nicholas naked, and ignoring the flutters in her stomach, Anne
handed the butler her gloves and hat. “Where is Lord Westcott, Martin?” She
picked up the mail from the silver tray on the refectory table, sorting through
it as she waited for an answer.

The butler hesitated so long
that Anne looked up, curious. She had supposed Westcott to be with Sarah or in
his study. “What is it? Is something amiss?”

“Lord Westcott is in the
stables, my lady. There was a little accident.”

“An accident? What sort of
accident? Is someone hurt?”

“Another shooting, Madam.
His lordship is unharmed but the bullet grazed Maximus.”

“Dear heavens!” Anne dropped
the mail and stepped forward. Martin would not say Nicholas was uninjured if it
was otherwise, but she had to see for herself. “I am going to the stables,
Martin.”

“No need, Madam. Maximus
took no lasting harm and as you can see, I am unharmed,” Westcott said, walking
toward them

Anne hurried to meet him.
His clothing was streaked with dust and a number of small tears, but the dried
blood on his face drew all her attention.

“You
are
hurt.”
Gently, she touched her fingers to his cheek.

“A scratch.” He caught her
hand and brought it back to her side.

His face, voice, indeed his
entire
manner
was such she took an involuntary step back. No sign of
Nicholas under that icy exterior, only Westcott at his worst. If he had struck
her, the pain would be less than this rejection.
You should be accustomed to
rejection by now, Anne.
But she was not; it came as a shock each time, and
she called on every bit of fortitude to force words through wooden lips. “Will
you tell me what happened?”

He dismissed the servants
with a look that sent them hurrying away. “There is little to tell. Someone
took a shot at me, hit Max instead and rightly annoyed, he tossed me into a
thorn bush.”

Westcott pulled his gloves
from his pocket and threw them on the table. “I take it you have recently
returned?”

“Yes, minutes ago. I have
not yet been up to the schoolroom. Does Sarah know of this?”

“No, and I do not intend to
tell her.”

“The servants?”

“Have been instructed to
keep quiet.”

Anne had serious doubts
about his ability to stop gossip, but if he chose to think otherwise, she was
not going to say differently. “Very well. I trust Max is not seriously hurt?”

“Fortunately he is not.

“Good.” She
was
glad,
being quite fond of the stallion. The single word was all she could choke out,
and she moved in the direction of the wide stairs.

He watched her, the nerves
along her back jittering under his stare, and she resisted the urge to turn
around.

 “I will be dining out
tonight. Tell Sarah I will visit her in the morning.”

She halted in mid-step, no
more than a second, and prayed he hadn’t noticed. “Very well.”

Back stiff, she hurried up
the remaining steps. She expected he planned to change his clothes first, but
if he thought to use the bathing chamber, he was sadly mistaken. She intended
to keep it all to herself!

~* * *~

In the end, Anne chose not
to eat alone and ordered a light meal be brought to the schoolroom when the
children had their dinner. Selecting one of her older gowns and comfortable
slippers, she changed, threw a shawl around her shoulders and went to join
them.

Sarah stood at the window
when she entered—another shock to add to this dreadful day. The child was
leaning on the crutches Bill had made for her, but standing she was.

“Good gracious, look at you!
What made you decide today was the day?” Anne hid her dismay at not being
included on this first try. She felt it premature, but perhaps she was getting
as overprotective as Westcott. Above all, she wanted Sarah to succeed, and the
child had been working hard.

Sarah raised her chin,
looking as self-assured as a queen, and Anne smiled. The child was very like
her father at times. “It was to be a surprise…and I wanted to be certain I
could do it. Danielle helped me with the special boot Mr. Fenton had made and
really, it went very well,” Sarah said earnestly, both surprise and pride in
her voice.

“Might I see?” Anne kept her
tone light, with none of the trepidation she felt audible.
You will not wish
the child to fail, even if imaging Westcott’s reaction has your stomach in
knots.

The leather boot swallowed
Sarah’s foot, so thickly was it lined with sheep’s wool. The sole was several
inches high and flat, and Anne judged it not the most comfortable of things,
but it appeared to provide enough protection for Sarah to use it for balance.

The child was surprisingly
adept at maneuvering with the crutches, which were also padded at the top, and
the handgrips were leather-clad. Too adept, Anne realized, her eyes narrowing
as she watched. “Just how long have you been practicing, young lady?”

Danielle and Sarah exchanged
a look that shouted “guilty as charged”, and Anne put her fists on her hips.
“It must be several days for you to be so proficient. I should give you both a
scold for taking so big a chance. If Sarah had fallen….”

“We were very careful,
Mother Anne. Truly,” Danielle said quickly, looking so alarmed Anne could no
longer restrain her grin.

“You did beautifully, Sarah.
I am so proud of you, both of you, for I know how much help Danielle has been.”
She gave each of the girls a warm hug. “Now, enough for today. Get in your
chair, child. It is time for bed.”

Sarah more or less fell into
the chair and handed the crutches to Danielle. “I am not very good at getting
up and down yet,” she said as Anne pushed her to her bedchamber. “And my leg
gets tired if I stand on it too long, but I will get stronger.”

“Certainly you will. Who
else knows of this? Surely you haven’t been able to keep this secret from Miss
Caxton, or Mrs. Timmons.”

“They both know. Miss Caxton
has helped a lot. Nurse is not happy, ‘cause she worries I will fall. She said,
‘Do what you want, Miss Sarah, but I want no part of it.’”

Sarah mimicked the older
woman perfectly and Anne had to laugh. “That is not very nice,” she chided, but
without any heat, and the girls broke into giggles.

“I want to go to the stables
tomorrow and sit on Guy’s pony. He said I could and Mr. Fenton said he would
help me,” Sarah said sleepily, when Anne returned from bidding Guy and Danielle
good night.

“I am not sure that is wise.
Rain is expected and you need more practice.”

“The day after then. I can
practice more tomorrow.”

“We’ll see. Goodnight,
Sarah.” Anne leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead. Sarah might feel
ready for such a big step, but Anne did not. Especially since it meant she
could no longer put off telling Nicholas about his daughter’s progress. Then
again, how could things get worse between them?

Anne returned to her room,
changed into her half boots and sent word to the Fentons she wanted to see
them. It was not full dark. She expected they were still up.

They were, and requesting a
footman’s escort from a disapproving Martin, Anne walked over to the Fenton’s
cottage. Light gleamed through the windows, and a thin trail of smoke rose from
the stone chimney. Anne stood at the gate for a few minutes and sniffed. Some
early spring flower must be blooming in Maggie’s garden, scenting the night
air. They had made a home here, and the couple seemed more content than Anne
had ever seen them. Perhaps it was best not to bother them, but too late now to
change her mind. They were expecting her, and indeed, the door opened and Bill
looked out.

“Mistress Anne?”

“I’m coming.” She bade the
footman to wait and hurried along the path. “I was enjoying the good smells in
your garden,” she said as she stepped inside. “It smells wonderful in here as
well. You must have been baking, Maggie.”

Maggie put her spindle away
and stood. “Pie, and there is some left. Sit. The kettle is still hot. I’ll
make some tea.”

Anne sat. A waste of time to
argue with Maggie. Besides, she was hungry. “Thank you.”

Maggie spooned tea into a pot
and filled it with steaming water while Bill took a cloth-covered pie from a
shelf and placed it on the table. “Rhubarb.” He collected several plates and
forks, cut a slice for Anne and a more generous helping for himself. “Mrs.
Fenton?”

“I will.” Maggie set out
cups and spoons, and joined them at the table. “It’s a mite tart, so you may
want to sprinkle on some sugar,” she said as she poured the tea.

Her mouth full, Anne held up
a hand. “No, I like it this way,” she said after she swallowed. “There may be
some strawberries ready next week, I’m told. Maybe you might make another pie?
And invite me in to taste it?” Anne suggested hopefully.

“Might well do that, if you
bring those children along.”

Anne smiled at the casual
reply, but thought Maggie looked pleased. “Of course. They like coming here,
even without the added inducement of pie.” Finished eating, she sipped at the
strong tea while her companions ate. Too few visits here lately, and she was
reminded how much comfort she received from the warm, welcoming setting and the
company of these dearly loved friends.

Maggie pushed her plate
aside and looked sternly Anne. “You aren’t here at this hour for dessert,
child.”

“No.” Anne narrowed her
eyes. “I want to know what happened today. Maximus was grazed by a bullet, but
not badly injured. That is all I heard.”

“Not much more to tell,”
Bill said. “Lord Westcott set out, alone, mind you, right after he returned
from Lynton Hall. I thought it foolish, which it turned out to be. Someone took
a shot at his lordship again. Max was grazed and dumped Lord Westcott. Being
somewhat uneasy when he didn’t return, I rode out and found him walking home.”

“I see.” Anne carefully set
aside her cup. “This cannot possibly be accidental. Someone wants Westcott
dead. Since he has no enemies, the one person with a motive is the Major.” She
looked at each of her companions, leaned back and held up her hands, palms out.
“No, please, don’t pretend you think otherwise. We’ve all suspected it from the
start. The question is what can be done about it?” Her voice fell and she
stared at her empty plate as if it held an answer. “If I leave, he will be
safe.”

“Nonsense. If it is the
Major, he’d prefer you a widow,” Maggie said sharply. “Best find the cur and
let his lordship deal with the man.” She pointed her chin towards her husband.
“Tell Anne what you heard today.”

“Rumour, that’s all. Better
not to put any stock in it until we find out more,” Bill said.

Anne’s head came up. “Tell
me.”

“One of the tenants stopped
in, mentioned he’d seen lights in the old Grayson place.” Bill’s shoulder
twitched in a half-shrug. “Didn’t mean anything to me, since I don’t know the
area well, but Banks told me that except for a caretaker, no one has lived
there for years. And the caretaker has rooms in the back.”

“Where lights would not be
visible. Have you told Westcott of this?”

“Not yet. Planned on telling
him tomorrow.”

“It’s worth looking into, I
suppose.” Anne stood.  She huffed and wrinkled her forehead. “Bill, Sarah is
set on getting on Guy’s pony. She is using the crutches.”

Maggie’s face creased with
one of her rare smiles. “Good for her.”

Anne nodded, but her concern
overshadowed her delight in the child’s accomplishment. “I am proud of her. She
has worked so hard, but Westcott has no idea of her efforts, and I am afraid he
is
not
going to approve.”

“He’ll come around when he
sees how well she does,” Maggie said.

“I hope so.” Anne summoned a
smile, although she felt certain Westcott was not one to ‘come around’.
You
realize he will blame you for allowing it. Allowing it! He will know it was all
your doing.

Maggie rose and touched Anne
on the shoulder. “It will all work out, child. He’s a good man and he has a
regard for you.”

She was not at all sure of
it, but made no denial, merely kissing Maggie on the cheek before picking up
her cloak. “Good night. Thank you for the tea and pie.”