Page 10 of The Lady's Guide to Marrying a Viscount
“First housed Napoleon’s men, before our modern-day prisoners, you know,” said Hugo, sliding onto his seat. “To get them out of the hulk ships. It looks impregnable but there are often escapes. This time of year, particularly.”
“It makes me shudder to think of men doomed to spend their lives in such a place.” Geneviève had a fear of enclosed spaces. Long ago,Sister Maria Angelica had locked her in a cupboard for a misdemeanor Geneviève could not recall. She did remember the dark and the lack of air and her panting breaths, wondering if she’d be left there forever more.
“They’ve been beating the gorse for three convicts on the run, with only two back in custody.” Hugo cast his eyes over the landscape before them. “The blighter might have made it to Plymouth and boarded a boat but, more likely, he’s frozen from sleeping rough.”
“And what will they do when they find him?” Geneviève, too, scanned the open moor below. The sun had melted the early morning frost, but as soon as dusk fell, the temperature would drop severely.
“Shoot on sight, I wouldn’t wonder.” Hugo shrugged.
“Surely not, if he’s unarmed!” Geneviève was indignant. He might be a murderer and deserve little mercy for his sins, but there were prisoners enough whose only crime was stealing to feed a hungry stomach, or a whole family of them.
Seeing her stricken face, Hugo’s expression softened. He took her hand. “Not all have your generous heart, Countess.”
Had the moment come?
He closed his eyes and leaned toward her, his lips soft as they met her own. The unexpected tenderness surprised her and she forgot, almost, that a kiss required two. Hugo didn’t seem to notice. The chasteness of the kiss and the color in his cheeks as he shifted in his seat, made her feel certain that it had been his first.
Thank goodness for that, she thought, having anticipatedthe embrace for so long. However, relief at having finally gotten things moving along gave way to a slight ache about her heart—not for herself but for him. One’s first kiss, she’d always believed, should be with someone for whom love is real, however temporary that state might be.
She intended to be a good wife to him, in all the ways she believed mattered to a man. If Hugo one day discovered the limitations of Geneviève’s heart, she hoped her other charms would make up for his disappointment.
“I suppose we’d better be getting back,” he said, as shy as he’d ever been.
Hugo engaged the first forward gear and they set off, gathering speed down the hill, which took them onward at a good clip across the flats.
They entered a small thicket prior to the final approach, where the road forked before the track taking them to the gates of Wulverton. A coach and four was ahead, having just emerged from the avenue.
“Might be my old friend, Slagsby,” said Hugo. “Mind you, he said he’d motor down. Fine fellow. A great one for japes—just like him to promise to show me his Prunel Phaeton and then turn up the old-fashioned way. Three-speed transmission, six horsepower and magneto ignition, and a nice shade of yellow. Jolly marvellous!”
Geneviève rolled her eyes. Here was the Hugo she’d come to know. It was a rare conversation that didn’t end in talk of motor cars.
“He’s up at Oxfordnow. Clever chap. Grandpapa had hoped I’d go, but I’ve not the inclination for academic pursuits.”
A variety of responses occurred to Geneviève, but she bit her tongue.
“Could also be my uncle, though he’s not due for a few days yet.”
As they pulled up outside the main entrance, Hugo leapt out and came around to open Geneviève’s door.
So very sweet.We’ll rub along all right. And he’ll grow up—eventually. There are worse things than an obsession with dogs and motor cars.
But she couldn’t yet bring herself to enter the house. With the sun out, the weather was remarkably fine.
“I’ll be in soon.” She smiled. “I’ll just walk over to the lake and back, to stretch my legs.
Waving her fingers, she set off before Hugo could suggest anything else, heading for the slight rise to the west of the hall. From there, the land dipped down and water formed a natural lake, encircled by rocks. It was a peaceful spot, hidden from the windows of the hall.
Approaching, she heard the splash of water, then saw a pile of clothes: boots and trousers, shirt and jacket, neatly folded.
Rather cold for a dip—but these local men are hardy fellows.
Geneviève made to turn away but decided it wouldn’t hurt to peep. It had been a while since she’d had the chance to admire a man in his naked glory, and she wondered if those hereabouts differed so much from their French counterparts.
If I crouch here, no one will see.
In fact, it was much warmer in the hollow, protected from the breeze. The sun felt remarkably strong. She settled behind the rocks, peering round until she gained her view.
CHAPTER 5
