Except that by doing so he would be accomplishing exactly what he had come home to prevent Sybil from doing, making of Willoughby a place of debauchery, making himself unworthy of the privilege of being the master of it all.
He was still standing against the fence when Fleur came out of the stables, her arms empty. She glanced his way, turned her head sharply, and hurried off in the direction of the house.
Well.
What the devil had he been thinking of to send her here? It was true that at the time he had not been planning to follow so soon after, but even so, he had known that sooner or later he would be returning to Willoughby. He could never stay away for more than a very few months at a time.
Why had he had her sent here? There were numerous other places he could have sent her. Or he could easily have found her a post with one of his acquaintances. In either case he need not have seen her ever again.
Why had he had Houghton send her here?
Of course, it was not too late, he supposed, to have her sent on somewhere else. Sybil would be delighted; Nanny would be triumphant; Pamela would not be heartbroken; Fleur herself would be relieved beyond measure.
And he?
He turned to walk away from the house toward a grove of trees and the artificial ruins of a tower, which his grandfather had been particularly pleased with. He would think about it some other time. He had been home for only three days. It was no time for hasty decisions.
He rather thought that she would in time prove good for Pamela.
Besides, she needed the pianoforte in the music room. He did not have an instrument to match it on any of his other properties.
The thought consoled him.
The gardeners would need to be reminded, he thought, that there was much deadwood to be cleared out from among these trees.
APART FROM A STROLL IN THE PARK THE DAY after their arrival, the guests did not exert themselves a great deal. All was in preparation for the grand outdoor ball that evening. It seemed certain that the event would take place out-of-doors. The long spell of warm, dry weather continued through the day.
Servants were frantically busy from early morning on, catering to the needs and wishes of sixteen newly arrived guests, preparing a grand banquet for them in the evening, decorating the area about the lake for the festivities, and preparing the refreshments for those who would attend the ball.
Lady Pamela was bouncing with eagerness to watch the proceedings and was convinced that her mama would allow her to see all the ladies in their evening finery. Fleur was less convinced. The duchess did not come to see her daughter all day, and it seemed altogether likely that she would forget her entirely until the following day.
She would do what she could to give the child some pleasure, she decided. After a morning of easy lessons, which did not require too much concentration on her pupil’s part, she took her outside, and they made their way to the spot from which they had been going to paint the pavilion a few daysbefore.
From there they could watch the preparations without getting in the way of busy workmen.
“Oh, the lanterns!” Lady Pamela exclaimed in some awe, gazing at the hundreds of colored lanterns that were being strung in the trees surrounding the lake and on the island and main paths leading from the house. “They will look like magic tonight, Miss Hamilton.”
The orchestra had arrived and were resting and refreshing themselves somewhere in the house. Their instruments were being taken across to the island by boat. On a flat lawn to the west of the lake, closest to the house, a large wooden floor was being laid for the dancing. Tables were being set with white cloths on the north side, directly below where Fleur stood with Lady Pamela.
All the gentry from the neighborhood and the town of Wollaston would come for the ball, Mrs. Laycock had told Fleur. And all the servants would be allowed to attend, provided they were not on duty.
There had been some hunt balls at Heron House. Fleur had always enjoyed them. There was something marvelously exciting about dressing up and seeing all one’s acquaintances dressed up too, and in seeing a ballroom decorated with flowers and candles and in hearing it filled with music. There was a wonderful exhilaration in dancing.
But she was quite sure that those balls would be nothing to compare in splendor with the ball that was planned for that evening.
She was, of course, only a servant. She had no grand ball gown or jewels to wear. And it was unlikely that anyone would ask her to dance. But of course! She had almost forgotten in the turmoil of the past few days, in her discovery of just who the Duke of Ridgeway was, in her fear that perhaps by some strange chance one of the guests would be someone who knew her—she had almost forgotten Mr. Chamberlain and his hope that she would dance with him.
She hoped he had not forgotten. Oh, she hoped it with all her heart. She looked forward to seeing him again. And she looked forward to the evening just like a child being offered a rare treat.
“Mama will let me come and see the ladies, won’t she?” Lady Pamela said wistfully at her side.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Fleur said, squeezing the child’s hand and fearing that she did know very well. “Shall we go and see how Tiny is today? She must be feeling lonely. You have not played with her yet.”
“Yes,” Lady Pamela said, turning reluctantly away from the view below. “I should have asked Papa when he came to sit in the schoolroom with us this morning. He would have said yes, perhaps.”
“I will see what I can do,” Fleur said.
The servants ate early that evening. Fleur was back upstairs before her charge’s bedtime and could see that there was still a light in the nursery. She knocked and went in.
