Lover's Knot Page 3

  As Jenkins ushered him into the room, the full glory of his attire made Alysa blink and Prudence sigh with pleasure.

  A canary-yellow doublet was paired with slightly darker breeches. The doublet was very short and skimpy, showing a great deal of fine linen shirt at his waist, while the legs of his breeches were very wide. White ribbons adorned the bottoms of the breeches and large white rosettes embellished the outside seams. His artfully curled hair fell past his shoulders, and in the front, two thick locks were tied with white ribbons in the fashion known as love locks.

  Over his shoulders was a cloak of canary-and-white silk, which matched the suit. His tall black boots were made of soft Spanish leather and folded down below the knees in a cup-shaped cuff. Stirrup hose frothed at their rims.

  The garments proclaimed Cedric to be an avid Royalist, but apart from making eager promises, his loyalty had never been tested. During the war he had let his brother, the Earl of Easton, carry the family honor into battle. Cedric’s contribution to the Stuart cause had been to offer shelter to the young King Charles during his flight from England after the battle of Worchester and to manage his exiled brother’s remaining estate. However, he was passionate in his belief that Charles would one day return to England and that was something Alysa liked about him.

  Now in his mid-thirties and still unmarried, Cedric had been courting Alysa in a lazy way for the past year. Lately, he had begun to act as if their betrothal had already been announced.

  As he entered, Alysa put down her sewing and smiled, but Prudence greeted him with flattering pleasure. “Master Ingram, how delightful to see you.” She dropped her sheet and hurried forward, plucking at the soft folds of her sky-blue gown to straighten it. “How kind of you to come to brighten our gloomy day!”

  Cedric’s pale eyes swept over Prudence with the cold calculation of a snake assessing its prey. His glance passed her, disdaining her as unworthy, and came to rest on Alysa. Dressed in a gown of soft violet wool, with ice-blue trimmings and petticoat, her golden curls framing her lovely features, she was a woman any man could be proud of. Imperceptibly the cool gray of his eyes warmed. “I came to speak to your father, but find that he is not in.”

  Resentment surged through Alysa, not on her own behalf, but for Prudence. More and more often lately she found herself angry at the things Cedric said or did, and she was not sure if it was because she had changed since he had first begun to court her, or if Cedric had changed. It was, she suspected, a little of both.

  Now her anger was focused on his thoughtless disregard of her sister. She had no doubt that Cedric had indeed come to visit Lord Strathern or that he had decided to stop in to speak to the young ladies of the house simply as a courtesy, but he had no right to squash Prudence’s pleasure with such careless ease.

  There was little she could do to reprimand him, however. It was not her place and Cedric wouldn’t listen anyway. “My father is expected back within the hour. I shall be happy to tell him you called.”

  Cedric smiled at her, a tight upward twitch of the lips that was devoid of emotion. “You are too kind, Mistress Alysa. However, I find I have a moment or two to spare. If you will suffer my presence, I shall be happy to wait for him.”

  Alysa gestured to a chair at the same time as Prudence burst out, “Oh, how delightful! Of course you must stay, Master Ingram! Your company will undoubtedly drag us out of the doldrums we are suffering this morning.”

  Alysa waited tensely for Cedric’s reply. It would be too cruel of him to snub Prudence’s enthusiasm yet again.

  Ingram, however, smiled at Prudence, thanked her for her kind invitation and sat down on a high-backed chair that creaked dangerously.

  Blossoming under Cedric’s notice, momentary as it was, Prudence flung herself down on the edge of a settee that was close to his seat. The satin of her peach petticoat rustled alluringly. “Master Ingram, I understand you have recently purchased a new horse for your stables. Is this part of a breeding program to enhance the bloodlines in your stud?”

  Abigail, Lady Strathern, always said that the best way to attract a man was to ask him about what interested him, then look engrossed when he replied, no matter how boring the subject was. As Lord Strathern was deeply involved in the husbandry of his lands, Prudence naturally assumed Cedric would have the same interests.

  She was wrong. Ingram shrugged his narrow shoulders and looked down his high-bridged nose. “I have no idea. I bought the animal on the advice of my head groom.” He turned to Alysa and smiled indulgently. “You have been very quiet, Mistress Alysa. Are you feeling quite well this morning?”

  “I feel fine,” Alysa said softly. Her deep blue eyes flickered over Prudence, noting her sister’s downcast expression. Alysa was well aware that Prudence thought her incredibly fortunate in having attracted Cedric Ingram, for the younger girl could not imagine any female not being instantly and always enamored of him. With his cool aristocratic airs and patrician features, he was the epitome of a perfect cavalier gentleman. In Prudence’s opinion, the woman who was lucky enough to capture Cedric’s attentions and eventually his hand would be blessed indeed. She had once told Alysa that if her sister had not been amongst those vying for his attention, Prudence would happily have entered the contest herself.

  As a result, Alysa was equally aware that Prudence could be easily hurt by Cedric’s often arrogant actions. He never failed to make it perfectly clear that he felt himself to be far superior to those who did not possess the power or importance to be of value to him, and Prudence, unfortunately, fit this category perfectly.

  A deep affection for her sister made Alysa say gently, “I’m surprised at the loose rein you keep on your servants, Master Ingram. My father always says that it is important to allow one’s staff to act independently at times, but he would never blindly follow a servant’s advice without first making the decision on his own.”

  Ingram raised his brows and smiled in a supercilious way that Alysa found extremely annoying. When he had first begun to court her, he had been flatteringly attentive, discussing issues with her as he might with another man, listening to her opinions with apparent interest. Now that he thought he had all but won her, he treated her with the carelessness he might show to a longtime retainer. “As I know your father’s lands to be in excellent condition, I am sure he keeps a close eye on their maintenance. Should I wish to discuss land management with him, I am confident that his advice would be sound. You and I, Mistress Alysa, have a different set of subjects on which to converse.”

  Alysa stabbed her needle through the linen sheet with a violence that didn’t show on her serene features, or sound in her soft voice. “My father taught me that we all owe obligations to the land and the people who work it, Master Ingram. Thus, I am always interested in the subject of its management.” When annoyed color flooded his cheeks, she added peaceably, “But I know Prudence would prefer to discuss other matters and so we shall. Have you heard that Miss Meacham over at Broughton House will be leaving to visit Lincoln in a week? She tells me that her sister is soon to be brought to childbed and is desperate to have one of her family with her when the time comes.”

  “But why?” Prudence asked, her youthful naiveté coming to the surface.

  Alysa shot her an indulgent look and said, “Having family near during a time of crisis is important, Prue. Think how lonely it would be if you could not see Mama or Papa whenever you liked.”

  Prudence considered that for a moment. “Oh, the way you miss Thomas, you mean.”

  Alysa’s eyes clouded at the mention of her beloved brother. “Exactly.”

  Cedric said smoothly, “Family is always important.” His voice was as cool as the expression in his pale eyes. Alysa knew that he and Thomas had never been friends and was not surprised when he turned the conversation back to area gossip. “Did you hear that Nathanial Morton has asked Miss Atherton to become his wife?”

  Alysa allowed herself to be diverted. Her questions about Cedric’s suitabili
ty as a husband were coming more and more frequently. Worse, the questions were no longer arising from nagging little irritations, but now emerged from a deeper insight into his character and beliefs. For the moment, however, Alysa was content to let the relationship continue as it was. At least until Thomas had visited and fled once more. So she exclaimed with pleasure and asked Cedric about the details of their neighbor’s upcoming nuptials.

  Thus they were able to pass the remaining time until Lord Strathern returned in harmony. But when Cedric had gone and the ladies were once more alone, Prudence demanded bluntly, “Alysa, have you lost interest in Master Ingram? Though your voice was sweet, your words were hardly flattering. In sooth, if you do not take care, he will stop courting you!”

  Alysa paused in her sewing as she looked up, a thoughtful expression on her face. “If he loses interest in me, so be it, sister! The other day I told Mama that I would not know how to reply if he asked for my hand and I meant it. There are times when the man can be perfectly charming and I think he would make a fine husband. But then at others I could gladly hit him, and I congratulate myself that I am not bound to him for the rest of my life.” She shrugged. “There is a fault in my makeup, I suppose, that I want more than just a marriage of form. I cannot help it, but there it is. I want to marry a man I can respect, but also one I can love.” She paused before adding, “And I do not love Master Ingram.”

  Prudence’s eyes widened and hope filled them. “You do not?”

  “No. Nor do I know any man in West Easton who can fulfill my dreams,” Alysa added with a sigh.

  “That’s because you have known all of the men in the area forever,” Prudence said practically. “How can you fall in love with someone you know very well?”

  Alysa laughed. “Indeed.”

  Prudence nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, there is someone new hereabouts. Sir Philip Hampton.” She grinned at her half sister. “A fine gentleman and one who seemed quite taken with you when we met the other day. You must open your heart, Alysa, and see where this leads.”

  Alysa smiled, a deep, secret smile. “Perhaps I will,” she said softly. “Perhaps I will.”

  *

  “Are you ready, Alysa? Prudence?” Lord Strathern accepted his black beaver hat from the hands of the elderly Jenkins. The hat was good quality, but old and well used, like the burgundy doublet and breeches he wore under a loose cassock. “I want to be off and back before the storm strikes.”

  A mischievous dimple peeped into life in Alysa’s cheek as she drew on the embroidered leather gloves that matched her dark blue riding habit. “Of course we’re ready, papa. Indeed, we have been waiting this age for you!”

  Strathern grunted, fully aware that he had been delayed, though most reasonably, by his dairyman, who wanted to discuss the way his herd was producing. “Very well then, let us go!”

  Laughing, Alysa shot Prudence an amused look, then linked her arm with her father’s. “Now, sir, pray do explain why you think it will rain when the sky is perfectly clear.”

  As they walked down the steps to the drive, where three spirited horses waited, Strathern said with amused admiration, “Apart from the fact that it is March and it always rains in March, Bailey told me. The man has an uncanny knack for getting the weather right. Mayhap it is his cows who advise him. I have never seen a man who cares so much for the animals he tends.”

  A groom tossed Alysa up into the saddle. She frowned as she gathered up the reins. “Do you think it is wise to say such things, Papa? There are those who would use such a light-comment to condemn Master Bailey.”

  His eyebrows raised, Strathern responded mildly, “The only ones who heard were our own people. I trust them implicitly.”

  Alysa nodded. Under her gentle control the chestnut mare she rode stood quietly, confident in its rider. “Our people can be trusted, but what of others? A chance remark here, an amused comment there and Master Bailey is suddenly accused of being involved in the dark arts.”

  Lord Strathern listened grimly to his daughter’s reply and didn’t like the edge of cynicism he heard in her words, but he could not deny her soundly practical judgment. Mounting his large gray stallion, he paused to find his stirrups and gather his reins before replying. “You are correct, daughter, I did speak without thinking. Damn these mealy-mouthed Puritans and their authoritarian ways! There are times when I long for the old days, when England was ruled by her rightful, lawful guardian. King Charles may have aspired to more arbitrary power than a monarch should have, but I would rather be ruled by a Stuart than by a Cromwell! I’ll be happy when King Charles II is restored to his crown.”

  “I think you are both jumping at shadows,” Prudence commented. Dressed in a vivid green habit much like Alysa’s in cut, she had been paying more attention to the very fresh bay mare she was riding than to the conversation. Now that she had the animal under a tight rein, she sallied closer to her father and sister and joined in. “England has been peaceful for years now and I for one am glad! Nor do I consider these restrictions you complain about to be so onerous. Our people are safe and our lands are able to prosper again. What is so bad about that?”

  Strathern raised his brows, but he waited until they were underway before replying sternly, “There is more to life than a full belly, Prudence. A man’s honor, his right to express himself freely, to live without suspicion or the fear of sudden arrest are but a few of the intangible freedoms we have lost under the domination of the army and Oliver Cromwell. I will never support the Protectorate. I refuse to. And I will do all I can to ensure that our rightful monarch is restored to the throne.”

  Though they were riding through relatively open country, Alysa could not resist a quick look around to reassure herself that they were alone. Ever since Thomas had followed young King Charles into exile, Lord Strathern had worked for the restoration of the king, for when Charles Stuart returned so too would Thomas Leighton.

  Though it was no secret in West Easton that Lord Strathern was an ardent Royalist, it did not do to state such feelings openly. Alysa knew from past discussions that the more Prudence argued with their father the harder and more bitter Lord Strathern’s opinions would become.

  Something must be done to interrupt.

  Alysa dug her heels into her horse as she issued a laughing challenge. “A race, from the elm tree to the pond in the next field!”

  The breeze caught her words and carried them away, but it was the daring glint in her eyes and the reckless smile on her full, bowed lips that made Strathern nod and spur his own mount forward. In her fearlessness, Alysa was the image of her dead mother, even if her features had come from her father. Not to be outdone, Prudence urged her spirited mount alongside her father and sister.

  The horses galloped eagerly. Obstacles such as fences meant nothing to bruising riders like the Leightons. Blood pounded in Alysa’s ears as the breeze, now a wind, tore ruthlessly through the pins holding her hair and threatened to steal away her hat. Beneath her, the chestnut mare pulled and fretted, wanting to give its all, but Alysa had a strategy she intended to follow and not until the perfect moment would she allow the final burst of speed needed from her horse.

  The pond was in sight. Alysa eased her hold on the mare’s mouth. She was rewarded by a surge of power that left her laughing and breathless. Beside her, neck-and-neck, was her father, a grin of pure competitive pleasure on his face. Prudence, she noticed vaguely, was scarcely a length behind.

  Gently, oh so delicately, Alysa tightened her reins. Not enough to noticeably draw up her mare from its headlong gallop, but enough to slow the horse and allow her father to pull a little ahead.

  As he took the lead, Strathern bellowed out a victory cry. He clapped his heels against his stallion once more and slapped its neck with one hand, urging ever more speed to ensure his win. He reached the pond scant seconds before Alysa and well ahead of Prudence.

  Laughing, all three paused by the water to catch their breath and permit their horses to cool down.
“That was delightful,” Alysa said, panting a bit. “But Prudence and I must tidy our hair. It would not do to arrive at a tenant’s cottage looking all undone.” She slid down off the horse so she could peer at her reflection in the pond while she rectified the damage wrought by the wind. Prudence followed suit and in a few moments the two girls were giggling lightheartedly without apparently having much success in their project.

  Strathern remained on his horse, holding the other two, so it was he who first saw the lone rider emerging from the woods that sheltered the north side of the pond. The man sat tall and straight in the saddle and rode at a lazy canter with all the grace and elegance of one totally at ease on the back of a horse. Even from a distance it was possible to identify him as Sir Philip Hampton.

  Strathern watched thoughtfully for a moment, before remarking casually, “Girls, I believe we have a visitor.” His eyes twinkled at the squeaks of feminine embarrassment that ensued as Prudence and Alysa abandoned their attempts to beautify themselves and dove for their respective horses. A few seconds later Sir Philip appeared to notice their little group and turned his sleek black stallion toward them.

  Unlike Lord Strathern’s well-worn suit, Philip Hampton’s clothes were new. His doublet was dark blue velvet and his breeches were fine black cloth. A black cloak swung from his shoulders with a casual elegance that belied the need for warmth on this cool March morning. The only parts of his outfit that had the look of being well used were his tall black boots and his hat.

  Strathern waited silently until Hampton hailed them. Then he said curtly, “Sir Philip. I trust you are not aware that you are trespassing on my lands.” The pond was on the domain farm and too close to the main house for Strathern to allow a stranger to move freely about. Philip Hampton removed his broad-brimmed beaver hat politely as he kept his restive mount still with knees and a light hand, the effortless control of an expert rider. Holding the hat in one hand, he contemplated the jaunty feather in its cocked brim thoughtfully. When he looked up, his long, tanned face was expressionless, though his eyes were cool. “I do apologize, Lord Strathern, if I have caused you any disquiet by being on your property. I had no idea the people hereabouts were so very possessive. In my youth people were more… generous.”