Page 19 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke
Nothing more seemed to be forthcoming and she recalled his unwillingness to call at Lord Brownlow’s mansion and his desire to avoid encountering anyone in the grounds.
Perhaps Hal really was uneasy with new acquaintances—although he had shown no sign of it when he was introduced to her.How very strange.But it was not her place to probe, and if he wanted to tell her about it, he would.
‘We should be safe here,’ she remarked, beginning to wander along the central path leading to the summerhouse.‘Oh, dear, this has suffered over the years, hasn’t it?I can recall playing here when I was a little girl.’
The little house, no more than one room, had been designed as a cottageornée, with windows in the pointed Gothic style with leaded panes, a thatched roof, a barley-twist chimneystack and a heavily studded oak door.
Now half the thatch was off and a pile of new straw and a ladder were propped against the wall.One of the windows had been boarded up and most of the wood was in poor condition.
‘There’s work in hand,’ Hal remarked, gesturing to the thatcher’s equipment and one window where the paintwork had been freshly done.
They were standing by the front door when they heard voices approaching and swivelled, as one, to stare at the entrance gate.
‘…hope you will allow our man to come and talk to your head gardener while we are away,’ said a female voice, clear and penetrating.
‘Lady Chesford,’ Thea whispered.‘They say she can be heard in two counties when she’s on the hunting field.’
‘I know,’ Hal said with some feeling.‘I have met her.’
‘One would not wish to copy,’ the penetrating voice continued, ‘but it seems such a charming conceit, I am sure he can come up with a different design for me.’
‘I…reports… Brownlow’s Italian…’ Their godmother’s softer tones were more indistinct.‘Too formal,’ came clearly and, by the sound of it, from just outside the gate.
Hal turned, twisted the handle of the summerhouse door and, as it opened, pulled Thea inside.He closed it silently and went to look out of one of the cobwebbed windows.‘They are coming in.’
‘Surely we are safe in here?’Thea looked around at what must be a heap of garden furniture under a dustsheet, a stack of workmen’s tools and an upturned bucket.
Safe?Hal was clearly unwilling to encounter the Chesfords again, but why wasshehiding?
Because I don’t want them speculating why I am here and not in London, preparing for the Season, she thought.
Lady Chesford was a gossip, and it would not take much whispering to make bricks out of straw, or mountains out of molehills.What was Lady Thea Campion doing rusticating?Unwell, perhaps?Or removed from an undesirable attachment?Has anyone seen her in the past few months?
Reputation was a very delicate thing, far more fragile than those spiders’ webs festooning the windows.
The voices were coming closer.‘Such a charming little house.I wonder what kind of shelter would suit my garden?A Grecian temple seems a trifle cold.A Swiss cottage, perhaps?I see you have a chimney.How large is the fireplace?’
‘Curse the woman, she’s coming in.’Hal looked around the room.‘Behind that stack under the dustsheet, quickly.’
* * *
Fortunately, there was space between the wall and the bulging heap, but Hal still felt exposed.He lifted the edge of the cloth and peered inside.Dusty, and he only hoped for Thea’s sake there were no rats or mice.
‘Get in,’ he whispered, and she wriggled past him without a word of complaint.
Wonderful woman, he thought as he followed her, folding his long legs into the cramped space under an upturned wickerwork loveseat.
‘How do you know them?’she whispered.
‘Hmm?’He was focused on the voices outside and replied without thinking.‘I have met their daughter, Penelope.’
‘Oh.Penelope,’ Thea murmured, then,‘Ssh!’
Which was somewhat unreasonable, he thought, given that she was the one who had started talking.
He could well do without the memories of Lady Penelope, all big blue eyes, fluttering eyelashes and rosebud mouth.It was enough to bring a man out in a cold sweat, and he had certainly needed a good hour and a stiff drink to recover from finding himself in close proximity to her on an otherwise deserted terrace.His retreat had been abrupt and decidedly unmannerly, but effective, and the looks she had cast him afterwards were reproachful.
The door opened, bringing a draught to stir the dustsheets, and several pairs of feet trod into the room.
