“I need to leave him a note. May I come in and write it?”
“Indeed, sir.”
Seated at the wide oak desk in the gloomy library, Ash penned a brief note warning the laird that his life was in danger and to take special care. He should not walk on his own, most particularly near the river. Ash wrote that he would call again to offer him an explanation.
He left greatly concerned but confident Peter would keep an eye out for the laird’s arrival. The pieces were slowly falling into place. Farnborough wanted his brother-in-law dead. But why he did remained a mystery. He wondered if the Scot, when he arrived, might enlighten him. That was if Ash could get to him before Farnborough’s hired assassin found him.
Eager to tell Miss Tothill the news, Ash scowled and caught himself up. Unwise to involve her in any of this beyond his promise of support should she need it. Her dainty appearance didn’t fool him. He remembered her climbing down that tree in her night attire. He would bet a king’s ransom she’d leap into the fray if given encouragement. And he wasn’t about to give her an inch if he could help it.
When Ash reached home, he swept up the neglected mail waiting for him on the silver salver in the entry and went to his parlor. Seated at his desk, he sorted through it, spying a letter from his grandfather. He slit it open with the letter opener. Ash expected the usual news, reports from the estate manager concerning the bailiff, gamekeeper, tenants, and crop rotation. It was all there, but there was also something underlying his words. Ash read it againmore carefully. He detected a slightly plaintive note he’d never seen before. One sentence caught him up.Once I’m under the dirt, you’ll want to change things, Ash. I’ve clung to some of the old methods too long, I suppose. I quite expect you to be a new broom, remember that.
Was it his grandfather’s gout? Or was he simply lonely? This business had kept him too long in London, but he would visit Meadows as soon as he could.
Chapter Seven
The full moonsent rays of silvery light over the river’s rippling waters as the coach carrying Thea, her father, and grandmother crossed the bridge into Richmond. They entered the gates of the Millard estate, a sprawling Elizabethan mansion set in acres of magnificently laid out grounds. Thea could hear the lapping of the waves and spied the river again through the trees when assisted down from the coach.
In the reception rooms, strains of music competed with the chatter and laughter. Her father left them to join those gathered around the card tables, while Thea and Grandmama continued down a long hall with lush carpet underfoot. The walls hung with gilt mirrors and paintings. In the supper room, the glitteringtonin their beautiful clothes filled their plates from a buffet of sumptuous foods while footmen served champagne.
Not yet ready for a repast, they moved on into the smoky drawing room. Thea caught a sentence here and there as she passed groups of gossiping guests. A gentleman recited Bryon’s poem “Darkness” in a deep, despairing voice to those giving him their rapt attention. Someone discussed the Royal Coburg Theatre, about to open in May, another the Regent’s new artwork: Charles Wild’s lavish watercolor theThrone Room, Carlton House.
Beyond the long windows, the gardens were inviting, lit by the braziers and lanterns. Would Farnborough come tonight and invite her to walk with him? Should her father be present, she could hardly refuse. What if Farnborough intended to draw her into a secluded place where they could be alone? Was it to discover what she knew? Or to kiss her? Both seemed so alarming. Her breath shortened. After a half-hour passed, having seen no sign of him, her spirits lifted. Perhaps he would not come tonight. Nervous and unconvinced, she continued to search the clusters of guests in the large room, hoping to find Grainger. He might have discovered something new, but would he tell her? Of course, he wasn’t obliged to, and so far hadn’t proved to be forthcoming.
Baroness Reade smiled and beckoned to Thea from the sofa near the fireplace.
With a brief word to her grandmother, who was engaged in conversation with Lady Forth, Thea went to join her.
The baroness patted the seat beside her. “Do keep me company, Miss Tothill.” How well she looked, her auburn hair drawn elegantly in an updo, her gown a deep shade of blue with sapphires at her throat.
“How good to see you.” Thea sat beside her. “I don’t think I’ve met one other person here tonight.”
The baroness nodded sympathetically. “That will soon change. The same faces appear at every function. I would introduce you to a few friends you might like at the next affair, but we leave for our home in the north tomorrow. Reade insists. He considers the London air unhealthy. Men can be very stubborn, but because they care about us, we forgive them.” She smiled. “But how charming you look tonight.” She studied Thea’s white and gold evening gown with a gold sash beneath the short bodice and intricate metal pattern around the hem. Sarah had artfully tucked tiny white silk flowers into Thea’s curls.
“Now that I’m increasing, I find it difficult to dress fashionably,” Lady Reade bemoaned.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Thea said warmly. “Is your country home far from London?”
She nodded. “Sea Cliff is in the far north, beside the Irish Sea. It’s wild and fresh and rather isolated, but I love it there. Although I do miss company.”
Thea glanced up, and her breath caught. Her father walked into the room with Farnborough. After a word to her father, Farnborough left him and came across to them.
“You promised to accompany me on a stroll of the garden, Miss Tothill,” he said after she had introduced him to the baroness. “As it is a fine evening, might I tempt you to take the air?”
She’d made no such promise, Thea thought bitterly, but it would be embarrassing and rude to refuse him. With a word to the baroness, she rose to take his arm.
Outside, the air was cool and sweetly perfumed. Couples wandered about the well-preserved Tudor knot garden. She and Farnborough followed the paths through the garden beds, symmetrical structures bordered by hedges, to an arched wooden gate set in the garden wall. Once through it, they entered an elm walk.
“Magnificent,” Thea murmured, looking about unsuccessfully for other guests.
His big hand settled over hers resting on his arm. “I am pleased you find it so.” Farnborough seemed familiar with the layout of the garden. He obviously had some place in mind. They emerged from the trees onto a freshly scythed lawn graced with marble statues. He led her to a garden bench tucked in a shadowy nook. “Shall we sit for a moment?” Without waiting for a reply, he drew her down.
They were entirely alone, and she trembled, fearing what he might do. “This seems improper, Lord Farnborough. I believe my father would not approve of us being alone this way.”
“I have received his blessing to speak to you.”
Seated beside her with his arm along the back of the seat, he turned toward her. She stilled, disturbed at how big he was, his voice forceful. “Miss Tothill, Theodosia, may I call you by your given name?”
“Yes, of course.” He did not offer his, nor did she ask it.
