Page 10 of Roseanna (The Shackleford Legacies #3)

Ten

‘I am so dreadfully sorry, Father. Dougal ambushed us when we were leaving, giving us no time to think up an excuse.’

‘Ah’ll dae everything in my power tae make sure the bampot behaves himself, yer grace,’ her husband added. ‘Ah’ll be sure tae keep him entertained until the other guests hae gone.’

At that moment, Nicholas wouldn’t have cared if they’d brought the devil himself with them. He was simply glad to see his only daughter. Stepping forward, he enfolded her in a tight hug. It had been too long.

Jennifer turned next to her mother, with both women weeping openly as they embraced. As Nicholas looked over at Brendon, he found himself suddenly fighting a sudden insane urge to laugh. The poor man looked as though he was about to end it all. He smiled ruefully at the young Scot. ‘It’s good to see you Brendon, and under normal circumstances, your father too. It is entirely my fault that we have two politicians here from opposite sides of the house, but if they think to use Blackmore as a cockfighting ring, they will find themselves on the way back to London – no matter how important they think they are.’

The four of them were in the small drawing room, grabbing an illicit moment together before the rest of the family realised Jenny and Brendon had arrived. Peter knew they were here, and after giving his sister a fierce hug, he’d bought them some time by whisking Dougal off on an impromptu tour of the house. Naturally, their presence would be noted soon enough.

‘We want you both to enjoy your stay here, politics be damned,’ Grace added as Jennifer seated herself between her parents, while Brendon took the chair opposite. ‘And anyway, your grandfather has very kindly offered to look after Dougal whilst the house is full.’

Jennifer raised her eyebrows in alarm. ‘Is that wise, Mama?’

‘Well, I would be a little concerned,’ her mother admitted, ‘but your cousin Roseanna has offered to help him.’

Jennifer cast her mother a narrow-eyed look, and Grace felt her stomach roil. Her daughter was anything but stupid. ‘Why on earth would Rosie do such a thing?’

‘Oh darling, you know how she hates having to mix with crowds of strangers,’ Grace answered carefully. ‘So, she offered her services.’ Both facts were perfectly true. ‘What time do Tony and George expect to be here?’ she added, hoping to change the subject.

‘They were intending to leave as soon as Henry had had his lunch,’ Jennifer answered, so I’d imagine another hour or so.’ She grinned. ‘He’s a gorgeous little boy, but such a handful. I’m certain he’s going to be another Grandpapa.’

‘God help us,’ Nicholas retorted fervently.

‘Have Mercy and Nate arrived yet?’ Jennifer asked in turn.

‘Not half an hour ago,’ the Duchess responded, inwardly sighing with relief that Jenny had let the matter of Roseanna drop.

Before Jennifer could say anything further, there was a loud knock on the door, accompanied by what sounded like stifled giggles. Nicholas sighed. Clearly, their brief sojourn was at an end. ‘I think your accomplices might well be aware of your arrival,’ he commented drily.

Jennifer gave a broad smile that tugged straight at his heart strings before throwing out her arms to encompass them both in a tight hug. ‘It’s so good to be home, she murmured, before jumping to her feet and holding out her hand to her husband. ‘Are you game to meet the horde?’ she quizzed him impishly.

He grinned up at her before climbing to his feet and taking her hand. ‘Wi you, lass, ah’m game tae face anythin’.’

Percy Noon was troubled. He’d known Reverend Shackleford long enough to know when his superior was keeping things from him. The telltale fidgeting, and hmphs, not to mention the Reverend’s habit of avoiding eye contact.

Simply put, despite his recklessness, Augustus Shackleford was really not very good at shamming it.

Naturally, the curate respected the Reverend’s desire to keep his own counsel, but in truth, it did smart a little. Percy was accustomed to being fully involved in the clergyman’s troubles, and while he’d oft told his wife Lizzy that being constantly dragged into affairs that were none of his business was wearying in the extreme, he was honest enough to recognise that without the added excitement the Reverend provided, life was actually rather humdrum.

‘Not that humdrum is bad,’ he hastened to reassure Lizzy, ‘especially if we want to set a good example for Finn.’

‘You think humdrum is good for Finn?’ Lizzy had queried.

‘Well, I…’ Percy stuttered to a halt, frowning.

Lizzy suppressed a smile at her husband’s expression. ‘If the lad’s life becomes too humdrum ,’ she went on, he’ll just create his own entertainment. I never thought I’d say this, Percy, but Augustus Shackleford is good for the boy. Keeps the lad on his toes.’

Percy drank his tea in thoughtful silence. ‘You know, now you come to mention it,’ he commented at length, ‘it’s not only me Reverend Shackleford is avoiding. It’s Finn too.’ The curate put his half-finished dish of tea onto the table. ‘And it all started when he told me Dougal Galbraith was coming.’

‘Do you think he doesn’t want you to meet him?’ Lizzy asked. ‘Why on earth would he wish to keep the two of you apart?’

Percy didn’t answer immediately, thinking about the Reverend’s discomfort when he suggested inviting Dougal Galbraith for dinner. ‘I don’t think it is me,’ he said eventually. ‘I think it’s Finn.’

Lizzy frowned in confusion. ‘Is he worried that seeing Dougal will make Finn homesick for Scotland?’

Percy shook his head. ‘No, it’s not that. If that was the case, he’d tell me.’

‘Well, in fairness, it’s not like Reverend Shackleford to keep things to himself unless he has good reason,’ Lizzy said, just as the door opened to admit their adopted son.

‘Did ye ken that the Revren and a lady are gaun tae be keeping Dougal Galbraith oot o’ trouble,’ the lad declared excitedly. ‘An ah’m gaunae help ‘em.’

Percy raised his eyebrows. ‘He asked you to help him?’

‘Nae,’ Finn scoffed. ‘Ah heard ‘em. The Revren tellt the lady Dougal’ll turn ma heid.’ He gave a baffled shrug. ‘Ah’m nae a wee one, and ah can turn ma own heid.’

Percy looked over at Lizzy in sudden comprehension. ‘I think perhaps the Reverend thinks Dougal might be a bad influence,’ he said carefully after a few seconds.

‘Really?’ Finn responded excitedly. ‘That be better.’

By six p.m. that evening, the whole family had finally arrived, and the noise was such that one would be forgiven for thinking there were as many dogs as people. In addition to Trixie and Flossy, there was Brendon’s Fergus, Anthony’s Nelson and Nathaniel’s Ruby. Since her grandfather had suggested he introduce her to Dougal Galbraith that evening, Roseanna decided to give Trixie the opportunity to get to know her doggie cousins before changing for dinner.

The Duke had decreed that once their other guests began arriving, the dogs would no longer be given the free run of the house, and watching the current pandemonium, Rosie could only agree with his decision.

The first guest arriving on the morrow would be the Comte d’Ansouis. Roseanna felt an anxious tremor at the thought that the man could be a traitor. Uncle Nicholas had made it very clear she was to stay well away from the Frenchman. She didn’t think it would be especially difficult. By all accounts, he was even older than the Duke and hopefully unlikely to take any interest in a gaggle of young, immature women fresh from the schoolroom. She was, however, relieved that soon her father would be aware of the situation. She didn’t know if the Duke would tell him about her eavesdropping – in truth; she hoped not. She wasn’t especially proud of what she’d done, and as the day had worn on, she began to wonder if she’d made a mountain out of a molehill.

Having spent the last hour catching up with her aunts and cousins, she was now sitting on a bench, slightly apart, as was her wont. Smiling, she watched the dogs dash around the immaculate lawn, wincing as they cut across the flower beds. At this rate, Uncle Nicholas would need to replant them all. But then, neither he nor Aunt Grace had ever set much store on appearances except when forced.

‘Would you care for some lemonade, my lady?’ Without looking, Roseanna knew exactly who had spoken, and her heart slammed against her ribs. She glanced over at Tristan Bernart, looking almost impossibly handsome in his livery. His hair shone almost blue in the early evening sun, and as his eyes met hers, she felt again the disturbing sensation deep in her stomach.

‘Yes, please,’ she mumbled as he held out the tray. After taking a glass, she expected him to simply walk away, but instead, he laid the tray on the table and turned towards her.

Looking up at him, she felt her face begin to flame. Truly, she wasn’t equipped to deal with handsome members of the opposite sex –gentlemen or otherwise.

‘May I speak plainly, my lady?’ he murmured.

Unexpectedly, her anxiety lessened as he spoke. He sounded…hesitant.

‘You have always done so in our previous meetings, as I recall,’ she heard herself saying. He did not immediately continue, and after a few seconds, she looked sideways at him. His eyes were no longer on her, but the fifteen or so other members of the family who were dotted around. ‘Will you be taking your dog out for a walk after dinner?’ he finally murmured, picking up his tray.

‘I…I would expect so,’ she answered cautiously.

‘Would you meet me at the entrance to the herb garden?’ His voice was urgent now, even as he continued to stare out over the lawn.

For a second, Rosie thought she’d misheard, but as he glanced down, his gaze curiously intent, she found herself nodding. ‘What time?’ she murmured, wondering if she’d gone mad.

‘I believe dinner will be early again this evening,’ he answered, giving her a short bow. ‘Shall we say ten thirty?’ He waited only until she gave a brief nod, then strode towards her cousins. Flustered, she watched him stop to speak to Mercy, Tory and Jennifer, who’d been as thick as thieves since their arrival. Seconds later, Trixie came running up, only to flop down, panting. Bending down to fuss the exhausted dog, Rosie found it difficult to breathe. Her heart was galloping, and she felt curiously lightheaded. What the devil was she doing agreeing to meet a man she barely knew alone in the dark? Was she truly addled?

Then she took herself to task. Whatever it was that Tristan wished to say, it was undoubtedly to do with the discussion in the study. There was nothing about his mannerisms that spoke of romantic intention. Likely, he had something he felt she should be aware of. He could even be passing on a message from the Duke. She took a sip of her lemonade. She didn’t really believe that. If her Uncle Nicholas wished to tell her something, he would speak to her himself.

But whatever it was, the footman had deemed it important enough to ask her to risk her reputation. She suppressed a sudden urge to laugh. If someone had told her a week ago that she would be agreeing to a clandestine meeting with a handsome fictitious footman, she’d have thought them addled.

Frankly, so much had happened, she hardly recognised herself.

‘Rosie, are you coming to get ready for dinner?’ She spied Francesca coming towards her. Nodding with a smile, Rosanna bent down to put Trixie back on her lead and stood up to wait for her sister.

‘Are you well, dearest?’ Frankie was looking at her with concern. Though she knew better than to try to cajole Rosie into joining their games, it didn’t stop her from worrying about her twin sitting alone.

‘I’m fine.’ Rosie pushed away her misgivings and smiled brightly at her twin, linking their arms. ‘What are you thinking to wear this evening? Your blue dress or mayhap the orange?’