Andrew looked up, distracted for a moment, and smiled his sweet smile when he saw Nicholas.
“Good lad,” Nicholas said, addressing Robbie. “It is what brothers do, is it not? They look out for one another. I have brothers of my own. It is what we do. They are very precious to me.Familyis very precious.”
Robbie looked suspiciously at him as though waiting for some harsher judgment. But Nicholas patted him on the shoulder and continued on his way. He tried not to imagine how Winifred Cunningham might have reacted to that drive over the hills. He had the feeling that it would have been she demanding to be let down from the carriage for a closer look at the slopes of the hill to either side of the narrow roadway. Her face would have been flushed with animation, with no thought to guarding her complexion from the sun. Grace had held a parasol over her bonneted head most of the time. But he wouldnotkeep making comparisons, he told himself firmly. Or keep imagining himself doing things with Miss Cunningham that he knew would make her happy.
Owen had taken her to the cottage this afternoon for tea withtheir mother. Nicholas suspected that his mother would be looking upon her as a potential daughter-in-law. He rather thought she would approve, unsuitable as Miss Cunningham might appear to be to other people of their class.
He, meanwhile, was all but betrothed. He was not free to dream of standing close to the edge of a precipice, holding the hand of another woman while she laughed and pretended to feel no fear at all.
Chapter Eleven
During the following week, all attention turned toward the upcoming fete as preparations proceeded in earnest. The Countess of Stratton was no longer expected to organize the whole thing, but Ravenswood was very involved nevertheless, for a significant number of the events were to take place there—the wood-carving, baking, and needlework contests, for example, and the archery and log-hewing contests. The ball too, of course, the grand culminating event of the day, but it was the organizing committee that looked after that. The ballroom at Ravenswood was the venue only because it was larger than the assembly rooms above the inn, and the ball was always very well attended, not just by adults but by children too, at least until suppertime, when they would all pile up to the nursery and schoolroom for a feast of their own and some quiet games for the older children while the younger ones were put to bed until their parents were ready to take them home.
Gwyneth went to Cartref one afternoon for a final meeting ofthe organizing committee, of which Eluned Rhys, her sister-in-law, was head this year. Mrs. Haviland and Grace went too to take tea with Lady Rhys and Lady Hardington, whose daughter Barbara was also a member of the committee.
Devlin was out in the stable block in the north wing, hauling out all the archery equipment, which was carefully stored between fetes, though a number of the contestants brought their own. He was checking that none of the bows or arrows had become warped since they were last used and that there was a sufficient supply of fresh string for the bows. He was also looking over the targets, which were always newly purchased for the event. No one, after all, wished to shoot into surfaces already pockmarked from the arrows of previous years.
Nicholas was out there too, examining the logs that had been hauled in, great monsters that would have to be hacked in two during the log-hewing contest, always one of the most popular events of the fete. He selected the logs that were most nearly identical in both height and girth. It was not a task to be undertaken carelessly, for there was inevitably the odd complainer among the spectators, the one who swore to having noticed small differences that had affected the outcome of a certain bout—always to the detriment of a relative or friend who had just lost. The contestants themselves had always been good sports. Nicholas examined the axes too, though they would not be given their final edge until the morning of the fete. Those also had to be as identical as they could possibly be.
Cam Holland, the old blacksmith’s son, now the blacksmith himself, was almost always the winner in Nicholas’s day. But that was a long time ago. Cam was still as strong as an ox, but he had retired from competition almost ten years ago. Nicholas shook hishead. How time flew by. And what sort of cliché wasthat? He had lived every day of the intervening years to the full and was satisfied with what he had done with his life so far. Only one thing remained to be done to complete his contentment. He must marry, set up his nursery, and…And what? Proceed to live happily ever after?
But he had better not delve too deeply into that thought, which could only lead him to the uneasy feeling that he might have made a horrible mistake. The fact was that he had made his choice, based upon what had seemed to be sound reasoning. There was no going back now, and he could only make the best of the future. Being married to Grace Haviland was not going to be such a terrible fate anyway. She was everything a man of his station could desire in a wife. They were sure to grow closer once they were married. He would see to that, and he did not doubt she would too.
They were both honorable people, after all.
But why, devil take it, had he not realized until very recently that though they had been friends of a sort for a few years, he really did not know her at all, mainly becauseshe refused to be known?
“Done?” Devlin asked.
“Eh? Oh, yes,” Nicholas said. “Everything is ready to go.”
“The archery equipment too,” Devlin said. “I won’t have the bows strung until the end of the week, though.”
“Can anyone defeat Matthew Taylor this year?” Nicholas asked.
“Not even close,” Devlin said. “I would love to know his secret. There is bound to be one. Owen is ever hopeful of actually hitting the target at least once during the contest. Do you like his chances?”
Nicholas grinned. “He is out there now with Clarence, practicing,” he said. “General Haviland went with them. He told them he was something of an expert at archery when he was a young man.That will only play more on Owen’s nerves—as though he needs the provocation. One has to admire our brother’s grit. His technique has always been wrong, so his chance of improving is dim. But who am I to judge? It is a skill I have never even tried to master.”
Devlin slapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “I had better go and lure the general away with the offer of a glass of ale at the inn,” he said. “I fancy one myself anyway. Will you join us?”
“I had better take Soldier out for an airing,” Nicholas said, glancing along the stable block to the stall where his horse was snorting crossly and tossing his head. “I have been neglecting him a bit. He is not suitable as a mount for the children. If they were to inadvertently give the wrong signal, he might well go galloping off with them and not be seen again until a week from next Friday.”
Devlin laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “I am off, then,” he said. “I hope General Haviland is standing back from Owen’s arrows by a hundred yards or so. Robbie went out there too with his dog, but I had better not invite him for a glass of ale. I might get in trouble with his parents. I rather like the boy, though. He looks like someone who has known some demons but has learned to control them. Owen has taken an interest in him.”
Most of the children were out exploring the parkland near the distant hills with Stephanie and Mrs. Cunningham.
Andrew was still busy with his stone. He had spent every day working on it since discovering it, locked happily in his own silent world. At least, Nicholas thought he was happy. It would be totally presumptuous to pity him anyway. None of the Cunninghams seemed to do so. They were a remarkable family. Robbie had stood guard by his brother every day except today. His eldest sister had persuaded him to go and enjoy himself while she watched theirbrother. She sat now on a bale of hay someone had brought for her, her arms clasped about her knees, a far enough distance from Andrew that he would not feel intruded upon.
Nicholas had been aware of her since he came here with Devlin, though she had made no attempt to speak to either of them. Her patience was admirable. So was her love. Hours that no doubt flew by for Andrew must be long and tedious to his minder. She had brought a book out with her, but it had remained unopened on the bale beside her. She looked more informal than ever with her hair in two long braids, one over each shoulder, instead of the usual bun.
Devlin squeezed her shoulder and said something to her on his way out. She smiled up at him.
Nicholas led Soldier out of his stall and spent some time grooming him until his coat gleamed and every tangle had been brushed from his mane and his tail. He would be given a good gallop before he went back to his stall, perhaps to the lake and back. It would benefit both of them. Nicholas was feeling depressed and annoyed with himself. Life as he knew it was about to change, byhis choice. It would be up to him to make sure it was a change for the better.
He thought of Winifred Cunningham’s harrowing story, of the way her life had changed considerably for the better after that happiest day of her life when she was nine years old. And perhaps it was about to change for something even better. Her wedding to Owen, if it happened, would doubtless be the new happiest day of her life, and she would move from strength to strength with a man who suited her in every conceivable way.
Their mother approved. She had said so to Nicholas in a passing remark about the possibility of seeingtwosons happily settled in the near future. She had been looking at Winifred at the time, weaving her way over the terrace and down over the lawn with aline of giggling children behind her as each held to the waist of the one in front.
