Wicked and Wonderful (6 page)

When Freddy hesitated, he added, “And should his lordship dare to require Judy or any of the ladies as payment fer the use of his land, then we will leave Somerset. Fer now, though, we took a vote this morning. ‘Tis all settled. We stay in Somerset.”

Freddy lowered his voice. “‘Tis your own fault, Judy,” he said, but he was smiling. “Were ye not so pretty there would not be half the trouble.”

Betty came running up. “Oy just heard that Kelthorne is asking fer ye, Judy. Ye do mean to go to him. Are ye not excited?”

“I have no intention of doing so,” she said quietly. John smiled his encouragement but moved away to help Horace tend to the removal of some of the props.

Betty’s eyes seemed to pop in her head. “Oh, la, Judy, what a fool ye be. I heard he was worth nine thousand a year. Think o’ the diamonds and pearls he could buy fer ye. He could even pay fer yer cottage.”

“Thank you very much, but I had greatly prefer to purchase my cottage with my own funds.”

“Well,” she said, breathing a heavy sigh, “I think ye be daft.” The smell of onions hung heavily in the air.

Judith wished she would chew the fresh mint leaves Mrs. Marnhull was in the habit of giving her each morning, but the lively actress rarely remembered to do so. Inspiration suddenly struck. “Betty,” she said. “I have just had such a notion.” She took the card from Freddy and extended it to her. “How would you feel about tending to Lord Kelthorne in my stead?”

Betty grabbed the card, her eyes popping once more. “Oh, la, would I not,” she said, expanding her breath over both Judith and Freddy.

Freddy took a step backward, turned away from her and groaned.

Judith’s eyes began to water. “May I suggest that you pretend to be me? Freddy can tell him that I have decided to meet with him and since you and I are of a size, and if you wore a shawl over your head, he would not know at first ‘twas you.”

Betty’s eyes gleamed. “Ye intend fer me to play him a trick?”

“I do, indeed, after which I have little doubt you will be able to take full advantage of the situation. Are you willing?”

“By Aphrodite’s eyelashes, Oy am.”

Judith turned to Freddy. “Pray tell his lordship that I will meet him beneath the large oak near his drive in an hour when all the crowds have dispersed.”

*** *** ***

An hour later, Kelthorne waited alone by the great oak just east of his property. The camp was visible in the distance where many of the actors and actresses had already retired. The wagon that carried the numerous props and costumes was just turning into the pasture. He marveled at the skill, execution, and pleasure the troupe took in all its efforts. There was a masterly organization to the endeavor that was visible in the careful arrangement of the tents, wagons, and horses that attended the troupe. These folk worked quite hard to earn their bread. He had no small admiration for them.

His thoughts slipped to Judith. His heart was heavy with desire. She was an actress and used to a certain sort of attention and tonight he meant to be very
attentive.
But how clever of her to have incited his interest with all her protests of innocence, all her struggling in his arms.

The kiss had betrayed her true nature, however. He chuckled thinking how she had puckered her lips, an actress’s trick, of course. He was intrigued, vastly so. The best part, though, was the incontrovertible truth that no lady attached to such a troupe could be innocent and he would have his amusement before his proposed bride-to-be arrived to change the course of his life forever.

But what a beauty Judith Lovington was. Almost he could feel his arms around her, as they had been not so very long ago. Would she be shy tonight or as eager as he?

His gaze was drawn away from the camp by movement to his left. The desire he was feeling sharpened for she was approaching. The moonlight revealed her shapely figure but she had covered her head modestly in a lace shawl. How very discreet.

When she reached him, she extended her hand and he took it, kissing her fingers lightly. “Good evening, Miss Lovington,” he said politely.

“And you,” she responded, drawling her words together

Her voice sounded a little odd as though she was perhaps a trifle foxed. Better and better. Most of the actresses he had known enjoyed their wine very much.

He did not release her fingers but gave a strong tug and drew her suddenly against him. She giggled, lifted her face and laughed a little more.

The odor that followed, swirling over, around and through him nearly caused him to stumble backward. Good God. What had the child been eating? Rotten eels?

For his own protection, he quickly caught her head to his shoulder and breathed in fresh air. “My dear Miss Lovington, I was not prepared... that is, I suppose you must be fond of certain vegetables.”

She giggled some more and wrapped her arms about his waist. “Oy am...er...that is,
my lord, I am
very
fond of
onions.”

Drunk, full of onions, and feigning her coarse accent once more.

“Most gentl’men don’t mind.” She lifted her face.

He held his breath lest he take another deadly whiff of the fire coming from her mouth and leaned to kiss her on the lips. But it was too much. He could not bear it.

Releasing her, he backed away. “I am very sorry, my dear, but this will not do.”

She slipped the lace shawl from off her curls and even in the moonlight he could see her hair was darker and curlier than it should be. He realized with a start that the lady he had held in his arms was not Judith at all.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said, taking her chin, turning her toward the moonlight and staring into a lovely face but one which belonged to the actress who had played a milkmaid in the last farce. “What the deuce is going forward and what is your name?”

“Betty, m’lord.” She dipped a curtsy, smiled and giggled a little more. “We was funning you, we was—Judy and me.” She then reached into her pocket and withdrew something that she popped into her mouth. Very soon the redolence of mint filled the air, thank the gods. “Judith, er, had the headache and sends her apologies, but she could not oblige ye. Now that ye are here, m’lord, why do ye not show me yer castle? Oy am very friendly and as it happens, Oy am very fond of castles.”

She moved to slip her arm about his in a practiced manner. He decided to permit her to do so, though he had no intention of taking Betty to his house. Far from it. In fact, he had a completely different notion entirely.

“In other circumstances, I should probably have agreed quite happily, your enjoyment of onions not withstanding. But I have different quarry tonight. However, if you are interested in earning a sovereign, there is one particular task you might perform for me.”

Even in the moonlight he could see her eyes glittering. “A sovereign?” she inquired. “Wat would the task be?”

“That you accompany me to your camp and show me, though at some distance, the precise location of Miss Lovington’s tent.”

Betty smiled broadly. “Oy should be delighted, me lord.” She proved to be wonderfully garrulous, chatting the entire distance. He found himself grateful for her disarming discourse for then he was able to ponder quite at his leisure the trick Judith had played upon him this evening. More particularly, he spent many minutes deciding just how he should go about punishing her for what proved to be an odiferous prank.

At the outskirts of the camp, where the shadows were dark and deep, Betty quietly explained that Judith’s tent was at the edge, near Mrs. Marnhull’s wagon. “She be our cook,” she explained. “The tent to the right of Judy’s belongs to John and Margaret Ash, so ye must take great care not to let them hear ye else John will run ye through with his sword, he is that protective of her. Judy came to the troupe as a girl of fourteen so he thinks on her quite as his little sister, so take care.” She then held out her greedy palm.

He withdrew the sovereign from his vest pocket and placed it firmly in her hand. He was not surprised when she bit it, afterward smiling broadly once more, dipping a lively curtsy, and swishing her way into the camp.

When she had disappeared, and when he knew even she could not see him, he crept closer to the edge of the camp that he might steal into Judith’s tent.

In the center of the half circle of tents was a log fire, blazing and crackling in the cool night air. The sound of a lute being plucked and the harmonies of two male voices held an almost melancholy note. Taking another step, suddenly Judith came into his range of sight. She was seated facing the fire so that her profile was perfectly visible. He drew in a soft breath. His heart seemed to constrict in his chest. Even at this angle she was lovely. What was it about a beautiful woman that so enchanted the senses of man?

After a moment when his head cleared, he realized she was holding a child on her lap. He recalled once in passing the camp he had seen a girl playing in the distance and there she was, of perhaps four or five and obviously content being held by Judith.

The scene was so tender that an odd pain passed through his chest. A longing pierced him so deeply that he had some difficulty drawing breath. He felt as though his ribs had been bruised, so profound was the sensation.

He drew back into the shadows fearing discovery. His original intention of stealing into her tent took a hard turn. He had been knocked out of stride and now he must recover. Only how to proceed? Frustration began working in him. This was not how he had meant to conclude his evening. He had been in pursuit of another kiss and much more, but there she sat with a child on her lap smiling at the troubadours, whispering into the girl’s ear, bouncing her on her knees.

Now he was angry. How dare she sit as a mother might sit, pretending to be honorable and pure when he had kissed her and he knew that she was no different from Betty. How dare she in her present attitude make him long for a family, for a wife, for children racing up and down his halls and she just an actress.

He knew but one desire in this moment, to punish Judith Lovington for her hypocrisy, for rejecting his attentions, and for sending Betty and her dragon’s breath in her stead. And especially, for having sent him all over the county of Somerset in search of her when all the while she was in his pasture.

He determined then and there that Miss Judith Lovington would soon feel the soft sting of his revenge. If she wished to play at her games, he knew quite well how to play. The scent of the hunt filled his nostrils, but this quarry he knew instinctively would not easily be run to earth. He turned around and crept quietly away from the camp. He would soon visit her tent, but not tonight. Instead, there were plans to be made.

*** *** ***

On the following morning, Judith lifted her head from her labors, stretching her back a little. Movement off to the side caught her eye and an unwelcome sight came into view.

“Oh, no,” she moaned. Her hands were sunk to the wrist in bread dough, kneading, flipping, and turning.

Lord Kelthorne entered the camp. He was astride his horse and sported hunting gear. A wagon, driven by one of his servants, followed behind him.

She knew she was not readily visible, situated as she was behind a rack of copper pots. Today, she was helping Mrs. Marnhull make several loaves of bread, but presently her fingers had stopped kneading since the sight of Kelthorne had stunned her completely.

“Wat is it, Miss Judy?” Mrs. Marnhull rose up from cleaning her largest pot.

“‘Tis Kelthorne.”

“So it is and such a handsome man. Look how he carries his hunting rifle as though it were but a feather in his hand. La, do but look in the wagon. He’s brought down a young stag.”

Kelthorne caught sight of Mrs. Marnhull and guided his horse in her direction, signaling for the driver and wagon to follow. He did not look at Judith.

“You must be Mrs. Marnhull,” he called out. “My bailiff has had many excellent words to say about you and by the looks of the camp even I can see that you run an orderly ship.”

“I do an that,” she said. “Thank ye fer saying as much.”

He smiled at Mrs. Marnhull and Judith’s breath caught. In the strong light of day, in hunting gear and his heavy rifle now resting on his forearm, he had all the appearance of a soldier returning from war. Sweat beaded his face, dust marred his clothing and blood stained his neckcloth. She felt very strange of a sudden, not precisely ill, but weak as though she might swoon.

“I have venison which I should like to offer to you and to the troupe. Would a haunch be of use to you?”

Mrs. Marnhull’s eyes brightened. “T'would, indeed, m’lord.”

He threw an arm in the direction of the wagon. “Choose the parts you’d like, then send your man,” he gestured to Horace who turned red at being acknowledged, “to the butcher’s this afternoon.”

“I will,” she responded. “And thank ye ever so much.”

He tipped his hat to her then to Judith. “Miss Lovington.” He met and held her gaze quite firmly, even deliberately. Then he smiled anew and in his look was the hunter still.

She suddenly felt as vulnerable as a rabbit in a crate.

With that, he called sharply to his horse, wheeled about and loped away.

“What did he want?” John called from behind Judith.

She turned and saw that he had just emerged from his tent, soap still on his cleanly shaven face and wiping his hands on a strip of linen. “He had been hunting and was kind enough to share a little venison with the troupe.”

“A little,” Mrs. Marnhull said. “We’ll have at least an entire haunch.” She turned to Horace, a lad of fourteen whose duties ranged from feeding the cattle to hauling water to tending fires in camp. “Build a spit for us, a good sturdy one.”

“Aye, Mrs. Marnhull,” he returned with a smile. He was adept at constructing things and one of the most useful members of camp even though he was so young. He immediately went to the second wagon in which the camp tools and equipment were kept.

As for Mrs. Marnhull, she clapped her hands together and headed on her brisk step toward the wagon. “Roast venison. Tend to the dough, Miss Judy,” she called sharply, “‘Tis rising already and that won’t do.”