Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince (6 page)

Meg’s head whipped around. Her eyes met the colonel’s, and she saw that he was every bit as appalled as she. The man did not only misunderstand Shakespeare, but Southey too. She clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms, and hurried from the room before her mouth got the better of her and she corrected the man again.

Lucinda waited for her in the hall and linked arms as the two walked to the drawing room to wait for the men to finish their port. “I should like to provide a bit of advice, Meg. I hope you will not take offense.”

“Of course not,” Meg said, knowing she would likely do just that. Although she had only known Lady Lucinda Poulter for a matter of one meal, she had already surmised her to be the calculating type of female that other young ladies ought to be wary of.

“Perhaps it is not the case in America, but in Britain, a lady does not correct a gentleman. You would not want to give the impression that you are a bluestocking.”

Meg’s skin tightened. It was one thing for Lady Vernon to give her never-ending tips on lady-like decorum, but Lucinda too? “Perhaps I simply wanted to give the impression that I have an intelligent thought in my head.”

She felt Lucinda cringe. “
That
is even worse.”

***

When the men joined them, they played at cards and listened to Helen perform on the pianoforte. Meg did her best to avoid Lord Featherstone. She did not wish to speak to a person so completely unfamiliar with classical works, although she could not help but notice that he watched her throughout the evening. Though he did not say or do anything inappropriate, the way he watched her made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

Two hours later, the members of the party began to separate and bid one another good night. Meg and her brother walked through the great hall toward the staircase.

Daniel glanced behind him to ensure that they were not within earshot of the others then leaned in to begin a conversation. “What did you think of the earl? He is handsome, is he not?”

“I suppose,” Meg said, the image of wispy facial hair lingering in her mind. “He certainly does not know his poetry.”

“One cannot have everything,” Daniel said, winking as they began to walk up the stairs. “And Helen is such an agreeable young lady. And very pretty, don’t you—”

They were interrupted by Lord Featherstone calling to Meg as he hurried to catch up with them.

Meg and Daniel descended the few steps to the base of the staircase.

The earl stopped and gave a small bow. “Miss Margaret Burton, I wondered if you might accompany me tomorrow for a ride in my chaise. That is, with your brother’s consent, of course.” The earl looked to Daniel for permission.

Daniel nodded. “Certainly.”

Meg did not know what to say. Why would the earl ask to take her for a ride after she had apparently insulted him? Either he was unaffected by her words or was not one to carry a grudge. She was still formulating an answer when the earl spoke.

“Very well, shall we say eleven o’clock?” Lord Featherstone bowed quickly and took his leave.

Daniel bumped Meg’s shoulder with his and waggled his eyebrows as they turned back to the stairs and climbed to the upper floor. “I told you no man could resist your smile. This is going to be easier than we had supposed.”

Meg’s head began to ache, and she wondered whether it was the trout they had eaten or the thought of spending time with Lord Featherstone and his horrific grasp of literature that made her stomach queasy.

The next morning when Meg awoke, she was delighted to see the sun shining through the windows of her bedchamber. The brightness ignited optimism, and she found herself looking forward to something new, even if it was an outing with Lord Featherstone.

After breakfast, the earl accompanied Meg through the great hall and out the main entrance to his chaise. A beautiful dark horse was harnessed to the carriage. A Yorkshire Coach Horse, Meg thought, recognizing the long legs and elegant body; until now, she had only ever seen the breed in a reference book.

Lord Featherstone assisted her into the chaise and handled the reins himself, driving down the road, farther into the duke’s estate. Meg tipped her head back, enjoying the feel of the warmth on her face as she admired the grounds. She took a detailed accounting of the scenery around them. With the sun shining, England was a completely different place. The meadows were beginning to sprout green grass, birds chirped, and buds clung to tree branches.

The earl did not seem to want to enjoy the serenity of a late winter’s morning and instead filled the silence by describing his holdings in Somerset. Though Meg had yet to learn anything about the man himself—aside from his inability to grow a full mustache—she did learn that he had an income of 15,000 pounds per annum, an estate of more than 10,000 acres, which required a bailiff, land agent, and auditor to manage in his absence. Not to mention various other properties that accompanied lesser titles he had inherited. Lord Featherstone informed her that Hawthorne House itself had 34 bedchambers, a ballroom, extensive gardens, stained glass windows, a large conservatory, and a dining room to rival that of any estate in England.

Meg nodded and smiled in all the right places, but the earl apparently did not expect her to answer, so she allowed her mind to wander as he talked, specifically to the elegant horse pulling the carriage. Did Lord Featherstone realize that the horse would perform better if given her head? He held the reigns so tightly that it looked painful for the animal, and in Meg’s opinion, the man was a bit too free with the whip.

She had almost resolved to mention it when movement between the trees caught her eye. She turned her head to look closer. There were people in the forest. It was most certainly a band of outlaws, she thought. “I think there is someone in the woods, my lord,” Meg whispered.

Lord Featherstone peered in the direction Meg indicated, and they both saw the flash of color and glint of metal between the trees.

“Most likely poachers,” he said, turning his gaze back to the road. He sniffed, and his lip curled as they moved past the spot. “The duke will undoubtedly need to be informed. Britain prosecutes such criminals severely.”

“For hunting in the forest?” Meg asked, looking back over her shoulder.

“They are stealing the duke’s animals,” the earl said, his eyes narrowing. “If they are apprehended, they will be transported for a minimum of seven years.”

“What does that mean,
transported
?” Meg began to feel the sinking feeling of unease.

He shrugged and ran his finger over his upper lip. “Deported, consigned to seven years of hard labor, and never allowed to return upon penalty of death.”

“Perhaps they are simply trying to feed their families,” she said. She was horrified with the injustice of it all. “How can the duke own the animals when they could at any moment walk in and out of his forest?” She tried not to allow her voice to rise, though she was not entirely successful.

He looked down at her, shaking his head and patting her hand where it rested in her lap. “Miss Margaret, do not concern yourself. Such things are not a lady’s affair. You must put them out of your mind and leave these matters to men.” He wrapped his hand around hers.

Meg bit down on her lip to prevent herself from arguing further. She lifted her hand away. The earl’s touch had been the opposite of comforting. Her throat ached, and her eyes began to prickle. It was yet another reminder of the self-importance of the aristocracy and her reasons for wanting to avoid the entire upper class.

Lord Featherstone must have considered her silence to indicate agreement, and so continued to regale her with descriptions of his wealth and importance, which in his eyes were apparently all that mattered, and Meg thought the carriage ride could not end quickly enough for both her sake and the horse’s.

When they neared the castle, she had readied herself to make a dash for her sanctuary in the library when she saw that the duke awaited them near the front entrance.

He waved and smiled, and once the carriage came to a halt, he held out his hand to help Meg step down. “A lovely day, is it not?”

“Yes, and we have had a nice tour of your estate. It is so very beautiful with the sun finally shining,” Meg said.

He laughed. “I imagine the English weather takes some getting used to after the warm climate of South Carolina.”

The earl joined them, and the duke turned to him. “I thought with the clear sky, it would be an excellent time to flaunt my new racehorses, if you are still interested.” The duke’s smile grew larger, and his enthusiasm was nearly tangible.

“I’d be delighted, your grace,” Lord Featherstone said, tipping his head.

The duke turned to Meg. “Would you join us, Miss Meg?” He offered his arm, and Meg did not even hesitate.

Thoughts of escaping Lord Featherstone’s company dispersed as she anticipated a tour of the duke’s stables. She slipped her hand beneath her cousin’s elbow. “Thank you, Your Grace. I would dearly love to see your horses.”

“If you are not too tired from this morning’s excursion,” the earl said. “Perhaps you would prefer to rest during the heat of the day. I wonder if the stables will keep a lady’s interest.”

Meg made sure to turn away before she rolled her eyes. “I will endure it the best I can, my lord.”

The duke squeezed her hand, where it rested on his arm, and when Meg looked at him, he gave her a quick wink.

Meg smiled, hoping that the duke’s wink indicated that she was not the only one to find Lord Featherstone’s assumptions about her absurd.

When they stepped through the doors, the smell of animals and straw assaulted her senses, but she felt comforted by the familiarity of it. She’d spent countless hours at her grandfather’s horse farm. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and she looked around in awe. The duke’s stables were grander than the Royal Exchange building in Charleston. The ceilings were high and the stalls spacious, separated by wooden partitions. Uniformed grooms moved purposefully as they tended to the animals, some leading the horses outside to the track for exercise, some feeding, and some cleaning the floors.

A stable hand led the earl’s Yorkshire coach horse into a stall and filled a trough with water as another brushed the animal after its outing with the carriage.

Meg scanned the rows for one horse in particular, and finally, near the other end of the stable, she spotted the white head of Patito.

The duke led them past the stalls telling about each horse as they passed. Meg was in love. Some of these breeds she had only read about in equine reference books. The duke certainly had an eye for high quality horseflesh as well as beauty.

When they reached Patito’s stall, Meg released the duke’s arm and stepped closer. “Hello, Patito,” she said in a soft voice, patting his neck. The men continued to talk, and she allowed the stallion to nuzzle her cheek. Meg’s heart jumped when Carlo stepped around from the other side of the horse. She’d thought him pleasant-looking before, but with his face clean shaven and his dark eyes wide with surprise, she was caught off guard by how handsome he was.

When she opened her mouth to greet him, he shook his head, placing a finger in front of his mouth and looking pointedly over her shoulder.

Meg realized how inappropriate it would be for the duke and Lord Featherstone to see her greet a servant familiarly and so held her tongue, but she could not help the contentment she felt at seeing him. She gave Carlo a small smile, patted Patito one last time, and made her way to where the men were waiting.

She noticed the duke nod politely to Carlo, but Lord Featherstone did not appear to notice any of the servants or acknowledge their presence.

Carlo kept his head bowed, which looked unnatural for a man who stood so straight. He stepped back into the shadows, and Meg’s insides squirmed uncomfortably. A groom must remain subservient in the gentlemen’s presence, she reminded herself.

The duke and earl had stopped in front of a stall and were admiring a black horse when she rejoined them. Meg was taken aback by the animal’s beauty.

“A Thoroughbred,” she said. “He is so majestic.” The horse was obviously bred for racing, with a lean body and long legs.

She stepped closer, but the earl stretched out his arm, blocking her from moving closer. “Be careful, miss. An animal like this is spirited. I’d not want you to be frightened.”

“Oh, I shan’t be frightened, sir. My grandfather owns a few of this breed, though they are older. And I quite enjoy riding them,
especially
if they have a bit of spirit.”

Lord Featherstone made the sniffing noise that Meg was beginning to loathe. “It is a pity your education in appropriate behaviors was so neglected.” He looked down at her with a sad smile. “Though your enthusiasm is delightful, such an activity as riding a racehorse is hardly suitable for a lady.”

Meg did not answer. Her throat was tight, but this time it was not from the despair of injustice. The earl infuriated her with his condescension. It did not appear that she and Lord Featherstone had any topics on which they could agree, especially as they concerned her. The idea of remaining with the earl and withstanding his barbs suddenly seemed more than Meg was willing to bear. She was emotionally exhausted from merely a few hours with the man.

“I am sorry, gentlemen, please excuse me. I believe I’ll take your advice, my lord, and rest for a few hours,” Meg said, dipping in a curtsey. She kept her eyes on the stable floor, not wanting to see Lord Featherstone’s arrogant expression and not wanting the duke to see the discouragement she knew she would not be able to hide.

“Come, I will accompany you back to the castle,” said the earl.

“No, thank you, I will be quite all right alone. Continue your tour.”

Lord Featherstone nodded. “With such a delicate constitution, it would be best . . .”

Meg did not stay long enough to hear the remainder of his words but hurried from the stable toward the castle glancing back only once to see Carlo’s gaze on her from the shadows. She rushed down the path, into the great hall, and up the staircase.