Page 11 of The Defiant Governess (Intrepid Heroines #6)

Four

J ane saw very little of Saybrook over the next few days.

He rose quite early each morning to ride out with his steward before she came down for breakfast. A few times she caught a glimpse of him striding into the house, where he quickly disappeared into the library.

In the evenings, he dined alone and then retreated to the sanctuary of the library again.

The footmen mentioned that his habit was to retire quite late, sometimes past midnight.

So she had not had the chance to speak to him about the fair.

He had certainly made no effort to have any further dealing with her.

In fact, it was as if she didn’t exist. Though why that irritated her was hard to explain.

Of course the lord of the manor would not concern himself about the governess.

He didn’t concern himself about Peter either, she noted.

The boy saw no more of him than she did.

More than once, she had caught him staring wistfully out the window as his uncle rode off on Hero.

Even she couldn’t deny he was an excellent rider and cut a dashing figure on the spirited black stallion.

Jane was afraid she would have to take the drastic measure of requesting an audience with Saybrook when she learned from Mrs. Fairchild that he would indeed be attending the fair.

“Oh yes, he’ll be there,” said the older woman one night after dinner in response to Jane’s question.

“Old Squire Hawkins stopped yesterday to remind Mr. Edward. Oh, he tried to make an excuse, but the Squire would hear none of it. He was a friend of Mr. Edward’s father and has known His Lordship since he was in short coats.

He reminded him of his duty—he must be there for the blessing of the wheat. ”

Jane smiled to herself. The children’s riding came right after that. It was perfect. She had merely to inform before the ceremony that he should take a few minutes to watch his nephew.

The day of the fair dawned bright and clear.

Jane smiled as Peter tried to contain his excitement.

High boots, proper breeches and a velvet collared riding jacket had been unearthed from one of the myriad trunks in the attics.

With his carefully combed hair peeking out from beneath his jaunty cap ,the boy was the perfect picture of a little gentleman.

Mrs. Fairchild and Cook, as well as Henry, had been let in on the secret plan and were as excited as Peter.

They fussed over him throughout the meal, assuring him that he would acquit himself splendidly.

They were all careful to remain in the kitchen to avoid the off chance of running into the marquess and giving away the surprise.

It seemed like ages, thought Jane as she smoothed the skirt of her gown—oh, what she wouldn’t give for a proper riding habit—before Henry knocked at the scullery door to tell them that the master had ridden off and the coast was clear.

It had been arranged that he would accompany them to the fair so that she would be free to seek out Saybrook.

Their horses were already saddled, and Jane was relieved to see that Peter’s pony, Tarquin, was as placid as ever, having sensed none of the nervous excitement in the air that was making the other mounts tug restlessly at the reins held by one of the grooms.

She was also happy to see that Peter showed no hesitation or last-minute nerves as Henry lifted him into the saddle.

There was only a look of anticipation on his face.

Jane, too, felt caught up in the same mood.

Lost in her own reveries, she barely took notice of the spirited banter between Henry and Peter.

It was only with a start that she realized they had arrived at the fair.

They halted near a large paddock where the riding competition would be held.

She guided her horse next to Peter’s and, leaning over, she put her hand over one of his small ones.

She looked into his eyes and smiled, then gave him a squeeze.

He smiled back at her.

She dismounted, leaving her horse and Peter in Henry’s care, and walked toward the crowd of people milling around the rough stage erected for the fair. It should be no trouble to find Saybrook—she had already seen the big black stallion tethered away from the other horses.

Indeed it was no trouble at all. A quick glance showed the top of his brushed beaver hat towering above the group of local squires with whom he was engaged.

She noted the lazy way he leaned against the stage, his carved whip tapping his polished boot as if to punctuate his boredom as he listened to the conversation.

Now and then he would smile faintly and reply to some comment, but for the most part he stood silent and aloof.

A rustling at the podium indicated that the local parson was preparing to deliver his little speech, so the group of gentry began to drift away from the stage to take up position with the rest of the crowd. Jane took the opportunity to approach the marquess.

“Excuse me, milord.” She stepped directly in his path so he was obliged to stop.

“Ah, Miss … Langley.” It was said as if he was struggling to remember just who she was. He gave her a pointed look, taking in her dowdy gown, unflattering bonnet ,and most particularly the spectacles perched on her nose. “Pray, what is it?”

Despite herself, Jane felt a flush of embarrassment steal in response to his scrutiny. It quickly turned to anger. Damn the man , she fumed. How did he always manage to irritate her so quickly? But remembering her purpose, she reined in her temper and spoke.

“It is your ward, Peter, sir. He is to ride in the children’s competition.”

Saybrook’s eyebrow shot up. “You must be joking, Miss Langley. Peter is terrified of horses.”

“ Was ,” corrected Jane, a little more sharply than she intended. “Peter was terrified of horses, as was only natural. But he has overcome his fear. It would be … very much appreciated if you would be present to watch him.”

A portly gentleman with wispy grey hair and a reddened face that bespoke of too much claret was gesturing at Saybrook with the tip of his gold chased cane. Beside him, two ladies looking dreadfully out of place in the latest London fashions added their smiles to the gentleman’s entreaties.

Saybrook nodded his greetings. “Thank you, Miss Langley. Now, if you will excuse me.” He turned and walked to meet the other group.

Jane could barely restrain from directing a kick at his well-tailored rump. Dismissed again in such an insolent manner! Well, at least she had accomplished her task. It was really of no consequence how he treated her as long as Peter was happy.

The parson had begun to speak and she remained where she was, casting a sideways look every so often at Saybrook and his friends.

After exchanging pleasantries, he had gracefully stepped into the proffered space between the two ladies.

On second glance, one of them appeared much older than the other.

Mother and daughter , she guessed. Or mother, daughter and father , she added to herself.

No doubt they were angling after the marquess, judging from the effusive smiles and simpering manner of the ladies.

With his title and lands he would be quite a catch on the Marriage Mart.

The fact that he had been abroad for so long accounted for the fact that she had not known who he was.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the crowd began to move off once the parson finished his speech.

The scent of savory pies filled the air, as did the lilting notes of the fiddlers.

Farmers drifted to the exhibition of livestock while their wives and children clustered around the displays of ribbons and sweets.

Jane stayed where she was. She had always enjoyed the sights and sounds of a country fair and was now taking a moment to drink it all in.

And of course, she had to admit that she wanted the satisfaction of seeing the haughty marquess accede to her request.

To her shock, however, she saw him move off with the gentleman and two ladies, not in the direction of the riding but towards an area where long trestle tables had been set up next to a group of laughing farmhands dispensing ale and mulled cider.

She remained rooted to the ground for a moment, unable to believe that anyone could be so selfish and cruel.

In her mind’s eye, she could picture the look of dejection on Peter’s face, and the slump of his shoulders as he once again experienced the pain of rejection.

The thought of it goaded her into action.

With nary a regard for the propriety of her actions she hurried after the marquess’s party. Coming up close behind them, she called out firmly, “Lord Saybrook, may I have a word with you—in private, if you please.”

All four of them turned around, different degrees of surprise registering on their faces.

The gentleman frowned at Jane’s temerity, while his wife exclaimed,” Well, I never … Who is this woman?”

Saybrook had a faintly sardonic smile on his face as he seemed to ponder just how great a scene Jane would cause if he refused her request. “My ward’s governess.”

“Such unforgivable manners! Turn her out instantly,” said the woman as if Jane wasn’t there. “I shall be more than happy to give you my recommendations?—”

Saybrook interrupted her. “I trust you will excuse me for a moment.”

The woman gave an aggrieved sniff and turned on her heel, taking her husband by the arm. As the younger woman turned as well, Jane realized with a start that she knew her.