Almost a Countess by Jenna Jaxon

Chapter 9

Glad she had already swallowed her tea, Dora paused to compose her face before answering Tris. She wished to speak truthfully, but not if it meant giving away any information regarding Lord Aberfoyle. “No, they have not put in an appearance at Bromley yet, however I did hear they were in the neighborhood yesterday. They had come by The Green Tree and Mrs. Jameson told me who they were looking for. Then I just missed them at Mr. Hawkins’s cottage. I daresay they will come by this afternoon or tomorrow.”

“I cannot remember anything so exciting ever happening in this area.” Tris grinned, making him look very boyish. “I quite envy them the chase.”

“You cannot mean that, Tris.” Violet tapped his knee. “I pity the poor man they are after.”

“My dear, you would sympathize with the fox during a hunt.” He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles. “But I suspect you wouldn’t be so compassionate toward the villain if he were to break in here and threaten you. When they called this morning, I almost offered my services to help in the capture.” He patted Violet’s arm. “But we are scarcely settled in here, so I didn’t like to leave you alone, sweetheart.”

“Did the soldiers say what crime the fugitive had committed?” Dora prayed they had. If their account matched Lord Aberfoyle’s, she could rest easy that he had told her the truth.

“Fearing the worst, I asked them. If he was arrested for murder or had accosted a woman, I meant to take Violet and leave immediately for York until they apprehended him.” Tris’s frown had deepened into a scowl.

“And were either of those his crime?” Dora tried to act naturally but still held her breath.

Tris fixed her with an impatient eye. “As we have not left the county, Dora, you can assume they were not, although the charge is quite serious.”

“What is it?” She edged forward on her seat.

“Treason.”

“Goodness.” Violet squeaked and grabbed Tris’s hand. “Did he attempt to injure the king in some way? Why didn’t you tell me any of this, my love?”

“I didn’t wish to worry you, Violet. Not in your condition.” He turned to Dora. “It’s actually more of a tempest in a cream pot.”

At that, Dora perked up. “What do you mean?”

“The prisoner is a Scotsman who apparently wore a kilt.” Tris snorted. “No sense, these young fire eaters.”

“He wore a kilt?” Puzzled, Violet looked from her husband to Dora. “That’s considered treason?”

Tris nodded. “From what Lieutenant Scarlet told me, it’s tantamount to it.”

“I heard it violates something called The Dress Act.” Dora had to slip that little fact in.

“The Dress Act?” Tris turned an inquisitive eye on her. “How do you know about that, Dora?”

Licking her lips, Dora pulled out every ounce of subterfuge she possessed. “Lord Haxby spoke of it when I was staying with Judith. He was a family friend, and is now her husband. When he inherited the earldom, it included several estates in Scotland. He told us about a tenant there who’d broken that law.” Amazed as lie after lie tumbled from her lips, Dora was helpless to stop. “He said the law is rather stringent in its punishments, but breaking it is not considered treason.”

“No, usually it’s not.” Tris looked at her strangely, but she must carry on and discover as much as she could about what he knew.

“Do you know what the usual penalty is?” Fearing he could hear her very thoughts—which at the moment were only about Lord Aberfoyle—Dora attempted to turn the subject to Tris.

“Six months of prison for a first offense, if I remember correctly.” Tris stirred his tea. “Transportation for a second.”

“Did the lieutenant tell you that?” She needed to make certain Scarlet knew the actual law. He should have done, but she’d like corroboration.

“No.” Tris frowned, a puzzled look on his face. “That particular law has been discussed in the Lords several times since I took my seat.” He peered at her. “Are you interested in it for some reason, Dora?”

“Not particularly.” With a shrug, Dora tried to affect disinterest. “When Lord Haxby spoke of it, I found it fascinating that wearing a simple piece of clothing could have such dire consequences. Still,” she shook her head, “according to the law, it’s not treason.” From the pensive look Tris had leveled at her, Dora should stop speaking immediately. Somehow, she couldn’t. “So if one broke that law they should be put in prison or transported, not hanged for treason.”

“That is correct.” Tris tapped a finger against his lips. “You seem to be well versed in this law, Dora. Pity the knowledge will do you no good whatsoever.”

“I suppose not.” She laughed, but it was forced, and Tris could surely tell. “But it was interesting to hear how the laws work.”

“Dora, are you quite well, my dear?” Violet leaned over to pat her hands. “You’re rather pale.”

“I beg your pardon. I’m not used to company now, Violet. I’m so alone at Bromley with just the servants and Larkin for company. I suppose I don’t know how to act around others anymore.” There was truth in that statement, at least. “Do forgive me if I seem strange.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear.” Violet squeezed her hands. “Now we will be in residence here you need not be so lonely anymore. You must come stay with me here and we can plan an entertainment for you. Tris, you know the families hereabout do you not? We can introduce Dora to them.”

“A fine idea, my love, although you mustn’t overdo.” He slid his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You’re carrying my heir, God willing, and we must take no chances with him. Or her.”

“Thank you so much, my dears.” Dora rose, wishing fervently to return home now she was certain Lord Aberfoyle had indeed told her the truth. Not that she’d doubted him, exactly, but Trish’s information made her more apt to accept his lordship’s word. She also needed to inform the earl of the imminent visit and the idea she had to avoid his detection when the soldiers came. “I fear Violet will be overtired if I stay longer. You have been traveling so recently I’m afraid you need much more rest. I will call on you again in a few days, when you are both more settled in.”

“When you return, we must engage the mantua maker to repair your wardrobe, Dora.” Violet rose slowly and embraced her friend. “Tris is having my harp sent out from London. We can continue our lessons and play a concert for Tris before long.” Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps for some of the neighbors.” Impulsively, she hugged Dora again. “We will find you a gentleman who will love you as he ought to, Dora. I know he’s there somewhere,” she whispered.

“I pray that is true,” she replied, Lord Aberfoyle’s face rising in her mind.

“Allow me to escort you home, Dora.” Tris offered her his arm.

She took it but thought furiously of an excuse for him not to accompany her. “That is very thoughtful of you, Tris, but I must insist you stay to take care of Violet.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “She looked tired, but I’m certain she would not rest until you return.” If anything would keep him here, it was his devotion to his wife. “I have Alfred to accompany me, and the house is less than a mile from here. I shall be home and changing for dinner in no time.”

“I suspect you are right, my dear.” He led her to the massive stone foyer. “Violet does need to rest.” He peered into her face, and Dora caught her breath at the keen concern there. “However, I will also make certain you arrive safely. If I cannot accompany you myself, allow me to send you home in my carriage.”

“That is very generous and considerate of you, Tris. Thank you.” A good compromise, and one that would not reveal her secret.

“I can never repay your kindness, Dora, in allowing me to marry Violet. Anything I can do for you, anything at all, you have but to name it and it is yours.” He lifted her hand to his lips and grazed them over her knuckles.

At that moment, she almost—almost—confided in him. She needed advice regarding Lord Aberfoyle from someone who was worldly enough to know the best course for him. Tris would be one such man, but that protective streak would outstrip any other consideration. He’d probably kill the earl if he knew the man was residing under her roof. His desire to keep her safe and her reputation intact would override any thought for her wishes or happiness. She therefore must keep her own council involving the earl for a little while longer. “Thank you, Tris. I will consider that offer—when the time comes.”

“Very well, then. Let me call for the carriage.”

They stood talking of inconsequential things until the luxurious black lacquered Town coach with the Trevor crest on the doors pulled up to the steps.

Tris handed her in and shut the door. “Until your return, Dora. I pray it is as swift as Apollo’s horses.”

“Flatterer.”

He laughed and nodded to the coachman who started the team.

Dora sat back in the plush leather seats and relaxed for the first time since Tris had appeared. She’d gotten information she desperately needed and now could speak more freely with Lord Aberfoyle.

Alfred had left on horseback, leading Gretchen. Hopefully, he’d inform Larkin she was on her way. Dinner was always at six, and she’d been unwilling to alter it. She’d have sufficient time to dress, but just barely. She hoped Lord Aberfoyle was attentive at dinner, for she had much to apprise him of, especially her suspicion that they would receive a visit from Lieutenant Scarlet tomorrow morning. Whatever else, they must be prepared for him. They would be, if the plan forming in her mind could be implemented in time.

Shortly, the carriage pulled up before the Bromley manor house.

Hanson opened the door and took her gloves and hat. “Miss Larkin is waiting for you, Miss Harper. Alfred arrived ten minutes ago and told us of your change in plans.”

“Thank you, Hanson. Will you tell Lord Aberfoyle I may be a few minutes late coming down?” She needed a good wash and wanted Larkin to do something special with her hair tonight.

“Lord Aberfoyle has not yet returned from his ride, Miss Harper.” Hanson looked somber.

“His ride?” Bloody hell. “He wasn’t supposed to ride without me accompanying him.” Anger flooded Dora from head to toe. How dare he take one of her horses without her permission? She should have known the cocky Scotsman would do exactly what he pleased without so much as a by-your-leave or a care for her instructions. “If he isn’t back with my horse within the hour—”

“Miss Harper, Hannibal came back more than an hour ago.”

The blood drained from her face in a rush that made her head swim. Breathing deeply helped, and in moments her head cleared. “Has anything been done to recover him? He must have fallen off. His ankle must not have been strong enough.” She must pull her thoughts together. “Have all the men mount up and scour the estate.”

“That’s been attended to, Miss Harper.” The butler had a good head on his shoulders. “When Hannibal appeared, I sent James out on him to try to locate his lordship. Then Alfred came back just now, and I sent him off as well. Neither has returned yet.”

“Very good, Hanson.” At least something was being done. “There’s still light left. Perhaps I should take Gretchen out and join the search. I should think he wouldn’t be hard to find with three of us looking.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss Harper, but the light won’t last long.” Hanson pointed at the dark clouds gathering above them. “There’s a storm about to break. You’d get caught out in it for certain.” The older man’s face was lined with concern. “It would be best for you to remain here and be ready with whatever Lord Aberfoyle will require when he does arrive.”

The Lord knew her butler made sense. The wind had risen tremendously and was tugging at her skirts this minute. It could pour down any second. Drat Lord Aberfoyle for making her feel responsible for him. And something more than responsible.

“I appreciate your advice, Hanson, but if he’s been injured again, this storm could finish him. Please have—”

If both James and Alfred were out, there was no one to saddle Gretchen for her. She cursed her father all over again for not providing her with more than a skeleton staff. “I don’t suppose you know how to saddle a horse, Hanson?”

“I’m sorry, miss, but I’ve been afraid of the beasts all my life.” Hanson shook his head. “I never even learned to ride.”

“Very well.” Defeated at last, Dora marched inside. Fleeing up the stairs, she hurried to her room where Larkin awaited her with warm water for washing.

“I must dress quickly, Larkin. Lord Aberfoyle has not yet returned, and I fear the worst. I must go down directly and see everything prepared in the event James or Alfred find him and he’s been injured again.”

“Very good, Miss Harper.” Larkin expertly stripped her then hurried into the dressing room. “Would you prefer the dark green muslin or the blue lutestring?”

“The dark green, please.” It would show less dirt if she were called upon to nurse Lord Aberfoyle.

Dora washed quickly and dried herself, glancing constantly out the window at the swaying trees. The storm threatened to break at any moment. She prayed James and Alfred would make it back before the deluge, bringing Lord Aberfoyle with them. She wasn’t sure which she feared more: that his lordship had been badly hurt or recaptured by Lieutenant Scarlet.

As soon as Larkin had fastened her hair in a simple knot on top of her head, Dora sped downstairs. Once there, she paced from one room to the other, unable to sit still.

Hanson lit the lamps and at last approached her. “Miss Harper, Cook has informed me that dinner is ready. Shall I serve now, or will you wait for news?”

A clap of thunder made Dora flinch. She had no appetite, would likely have none until she was assured of her staff’s and his lordship’s safety. “Ask Cook to keep it warm please, Hanson.”

A soft patter of raindrops against the windowpane swelled into a downpour that sheeted against the glass. Dora hurried to the front receiving room to peer out into the darkness. The drops struck the ground with such force the sound drowned out everything else. There was only Dora and the storm. Wind lashed the house with such fury Dora jumped back.

“Miss Harper?” Hanson had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. “James and Alfred have returned.”

She whirled to face him, but the instant she saw his face, she knew what he would say.

“They couldn’t find any sign of him. James rode as far as Mr. Hawkins’s farm.” The butler’s visage was grave.

“Thank you, Hanson.” Dora returned to the window, her hope for Lord Aberfoyle’s safety dwindling. All she could pray for now was that he’d managed to find some place out of the storm and would return tomorrow morning. If he did not, she’d ride out with the men in search of him once more.

The door behind her opened again.

“What is it, Hanson?”

“I beg yer pardon for being late tae dinner, Miss Harper, but I was unfortunately detained.”