Page 17 of The Defiant Governess
“How would you like to surprise your uncle—and make him very proud of you?”
The boy looked up in wonder. “How?”
“I heard Henry talking about the village fair. There is to be a riding competition, one for children as well as adults. You’rebecome very comfortable in the saddle, and I think you should be part of it. We’ll make it a surprise.”
“I don’t know,” he faltered. “I don’t … do you really think …”
She squeezed him harder. “Of course you can! You and Tarquin are best of friends now and you’ve been off the lead for days. By week’s end you’ll be trotting and shall be quite ready for the fair.”
“He might not be there.” Peter was trying to keep the growing excitement out of his voice.
“Oh, he’ll be there. Leave that to me,” said Jane with a grim smile. As she well knew, any of the surrounding gentry in residence would be bound by tradition to put in an appearance. And furthermore, if she had to jam a pistol into his elegant ribs, Lord Saybrook would be there. Of course it was to be hoped that such extreme measures wouldn’t be necessary. Surely even an unfeeling guardian could not begrudge such a small demand on his time.
But she would deal with that later. Right now, she was rewarded by seeing the look of happiness on Peter’s face.
“It will be a big surprise, will it not?” he said with unconcealed delight.
“Indeed it will. We’ll practice extra hard this week—but mind you, you mustn’t neglect your lessons.” She planted a kiss on the top of his head and tucked him under the covers. “And now, you had better get some sleep. We have a lot of work to do.”
“Good night, Miss Jane,” murmured the boy as she walked toward the door with her candle. “And thank you.”
She closed the door knowing full well she left a sleepy little boy to dream happily of saddles and ponies and guardian uncles.
Four
Jane saw very little of Saybrook over the next few days. He rose quite early each morning to ride out with his steward before she came down for breakfast. A few times she caught a glimpse of him striding into the house, where he quickly disappeared into the library. In the evenings, he dined alone and then retreated to the sanctuary of the library again. The footmen mentioned that his habit was to retire quite late, sometimes past midnight.
So she had not had the chance to speak to him about the fair. He had certainly made no effort to have any further dealing with her. In fact, it was as if she didn’t exist. Though why that irritated her was hard to explain. Of course the lord of the manor would not concern himself about the governess.
He didn’t concern himself about Peter either, she noted. The boy saw no more of him than she did. More than once, she had caught him staring wistfully out the window as his uncle rode off on Hero. Even she couldn’t deny he was an excellent rider and cut a dashing figure on the spirited black stallion.
Jane was afraid she would have to take the drastic measure of requesting an audience with Saybrook when she learned from Mrs. Fairchild that he would indeed be attending the fair.
“Oh yes, he’ll be there,” said the older woman one night after dinner in response to Jane’s question. “Old Squire Hawkins stopped yesterday to remind Mr. Edward. Oh, he tried to make an excuse, but the Squire would hear none of it. He was a friend of Mr. Edward’s father and has known His Lordship since he was in short coats. He reminded him of his duty—he must be there for the blessing of the wheat.”
Jane smiled to herself. The children’s riding came right after that. It was perfect. She had merely to inform before the ceremony that he should take a few minutes to watch his nephew.
The day of the fair dawned bright and clear. Jane smiled as Peter tried to contain his excitement. High boots, proper breeches and a velvet collared riding jacket had been unearthed from one of the myriad trunks in the attics. With his carefully combed hair peeking out from beneath his jaunty cap ,the boy was the perfect picture of a little gentleman. Mrs. Fairchild and Cook, as well as Henry, had been let in on the secret plan and were as excited as Peter. They fussed over him throughout the meal, assuring him that he would acquit himself splendidly.
They were all careful to remain in the kitchen to avoid the off chance of running into the marquess and giving away the surprise. It seemed like ages, thought Jane as she smoothed the skirt of her gown—oh, what she wouldn’t give for a proper riding habit—before Henry knocked at the scullery door to tell them that the master had ridden off and the coast was clear. It had been arranged that he would accompany them to the fair so that she would be free to seek out Saybrook. Their horses were already saddled, and Jane was relieved to see that Peter’s pony, Tarquin, was as placid as ever, having sensed none of the nervous excitement in the air that was making the other mounts tug restlessly at the reins held by one of the grooms.
She was also happy to see that Peter showed no hesitation or last-minute nerves as Henry lifted him into the saddle. There was only a look of anticipation on his face. Jane, too, felt caught up in the same mood. Lost in her own reveries, she barely took notice of the spirited banter between Henry and Peter. It was only with a start that she realized they had arrived at the fair. They halted near a large paddock where the riding competition would be held. She guided her horse next to Peter’s and, leaning over, she put her hand over one of his small ones. She looked into his eyes and smiled, then gave him a squeeze.
He smiled back at her.
She dismounted, leaving her horse and Peter in Henry’s care, and walked toward the crowd of people milling around the rough stage erected for the fair. It should be no trouble to find Saybrook—she had already seen the big black stallion tethered away from the other horses.
Indeed it was no trouble at all. A quick glance showed the top of his brushed beaver hat towering above the group of local squires with whom he was engaged. She noted the lazy way he leaned against the stage, his carved whip tapping his polished boot as if to punctuate his boredom as he listened to the conversation. Now and then he would smile faintly and reply to some comment, but for the most part he stood silent and aloof.
A rustling at the podium indicated that the local parson was preparing to deliver his little speech, so the group of gentry began to drift away from the stage to take up position with the rest of the crowd. Jane took the opportunity to approach the marquess.
“Excuse me, milord.” She stepped directly in his path so he was obliged to stop.
“Ah, Miss … Langley.” It was said as if he was struggling to remember just who she was. He gave her a pointed look, takingin her dowdy gown, unflattering bonnet ,and most particularly the spectacles perched on her nose. “Pray, what is it?”
Despite herself, Jane felt a flush of embarrassment steal in response to his scrutiny. It quickly turned to anger.Damn the man, she fumed. How did he always manage to irritate her so quickly? But remembering her purpose, she reined in her temper and spoke.
“It is your ward, Peter, sir. He is to ride in the children’s competition.”
