Page 46 of Finding Hope
“Help me to understand, then,” Westwood said slowly. “Are you or are you not allowed to choose your bride? Because if you have no intention of offering for Hope, why would you bring her here to watch you choose someone else when you know good and well she has a tendre for you? As her guardian, I must object to such usage.”
“Indeed, it was badly done of me. I can see that now,” Max admitted. “I thought to reassure myself, I suppose. I had not fairly looked at anyone else and thought to see how she would handle the situation. I also hoped my mother would change her mind.”
“And what has your conclusion been? Or are you still assaying ladies?”
Max did not miss his friend’s sardonic tone. “There is no one else who suits me so well, and you know it as well as I.”
“Who are these other paragons you thought might suit?” Westwood asked, clearly wholly amused by the state of affairs.
Max began to regale him with his experiences with Lady Alice, Lady Agatha, Lady Matilda, and Lady Caroline.
Westwood was crying with laughter when Max described the archery lesson and Lady Agatha’s attempt to throw herself all over him.
“Is she not the fusby-faced one?” Westwood asked, which made Max laugh.
By that time, they had reached those guests who were hunting; there were still other people gathered about the bank. Max set the brake on the cart and looked at his friend. “Hope is the lady I want, but what am I to do about her Grace?”
“The Duchess can accept it graciously, or accept a life apart from you. Your father will soon be gone, and he was never good at taking your part, anyway.”
That much was true.
A blow on the horns signalled that hounds and horses were coming. The Duke flew by on his steed, his cheeks pink from exertion and happiness.
“That was the Duke?” Westwood asked, shaking his head with disbelief that the Duke was still upright in the saddle.
“I warned you. It looks as though they have resumed the hunt,” Max said as the whirl of hounds and horses passed them. “Does this mean they did not find anything? Or did they find a poacher and resolve the danger?”
Montford, Carew, and Cunningham saw Max and Westwood and pulled up beside the cart.
“Well met, Westwood!” Freddy greeted with his usual cheer.
“Any news?” Max asked, impatient for word. “Why is the hunt continuing?”
“It did not seem as though there was further risk,” Carew explained.
“No sign of a poacher,” Montford said. “No traps or anything left behind in a hurry.”
“And no footprints in the rocky path,” Freddy added. “We did find a feather,” he continued, holding up a feather of an unnaturally dyed red colour.
“That could only have come from one place,” Max said.
“A lady’s bonnet,” Westwood confirmed.
“Which does not necessarily mean the hand on the gun was that of a lady. Any number of ladies were wearing feathers in their hats this morning,” Montford pointed out.
“Where was this found?”
“Come, I will show you.” They climbed up the small, nearby ridge to a well-hidden spot behind some trees. It would have been a perfect place to watch, wait, and take aim.
No one said what they must all be thinking. If a lady’s feather had landed there accidentally, it would have had to have been carried there by a bird or by strong winds, and it was an unusually still day.
“Too bad the hounds cannot hunt without a scent,” Westwood reflected.
“I think this needs to remain between us for now,” Max said thoughtfully.
“We will return to the group and take note of the headdresses worn by the ladies on the hunt, though I cannot recall any of them leaving the group,” Carew suggested.
“My sister escorted Miss Montford away early, though neither of them would have had time to return and do such a thing. Moreover, they were together,” Max said as he pondered.
