Stephanie and the Wicked Deceiver (Wild Marchmonts #2)

15. A Day of Sport

Chapter 15

A Day of Sport

T he Hedley who had invited the duke and Lady Cressida was not the Hedley who was receiving them, but a cold-eyed, upright figure who nodded briefly and eyed the man who accompanied them with dislike.

Surprised, Sedgewick looked to Pettigrew, who welcomed him, and then to Armitage. Finally, he looked to Stephanie; she was regarding the earl and looking perplexed, for Hedley’s eyes were still on Sedgewick himself a full thirty seconds later.

‘My friend, Sir Francis Sedgewick, Hedley,’ she said.

‘We do know each other,’ he informed her coolly. ’You are welcome, baronet,’ the earl continued, his voice now ice.

Fortescue swept forward to continue the introductions and Sedgewick bowed low over Gertrude Galloway’s hand. ‘You look forward to the sport, Miss Galloway?’ he asked politely.

‘I participate in the archery only – and by force.’

‘These gentlemen have not the appearance of bullies!’ Sedgewick said lightly, but Stephanie intervened.

‘No that was me! Gertrude told me she used to shoot, so I said she must today,’ she told him.

‘Twenty-five years ago!’ exclaimed Miss Galloway humorously.

‘You took up the bow at five years, then, Miss Galloway?’ enquired Sedgewick gallantly. ‘I am surprised you could lift it!’

‘You are charm itself, Sir Francis!’

Hedley’s eyes narrowed as Stephanie added, ‘Oh, he is!’

Lady Cressida had been engaged in taking off her outerwear and adjusting her hat in the hall mirror. At this, she came forward. ‘Ah, no doubt Sir Francis has flirted with you, too, Miss Marchmont.’

‘With me? Oh no! But he is full of nonsense to my sisters and cousins!’

‘It is called address , not nonsense!’ said Armitage.

‘You say so only because you do so too, Sir Rupert. Ben only says true things, and Horace silly things, but you and Hedley are full of nonsense.’

‘Sir Rupert is right, Miss Marchmont,’ Cressida stated. ‘You are not acquainted with London manners, but these three gentlemen are renowned for their address.’

‘Bah!’ said Stephanie. Morag, standing nearby, sighed.

Hedley finally cracked a smile at this rudeness, and Lady Cressida was appalled to see every gentleman present look at her rival with affection instead of disgust. Even Papa…! Pettigrew grinned, Armitage and Fortescue were giving faint smiles of affection and Hedley…! Cressida did not want to consider what Hedley’s smile denoted.

To gain his attention she said, ‘So, my lord, what is our programme for today?’

‘Oh, riding! Since it is not possible to pit the horses evenly against one another…’

‘Yes, without a handicap your Atlas must win all the races!’ interrupted Lady Cressida with flattering enthusiasm.

Stephanie, the four friends noted, looked confused at this, but Hedley drove on. ‘…therefore, we have set up some obstacles in a field for each rider to display skills — for points, of course.’ He led the way with Lady Cressida close by him.

Stephanie was admiring Cressida’s riding habit: it was very fashionable, of military cut, in a deep shade of blue that matched her eyes, she heard Sedgewick say to the duke’s daughter. He was right: it was, thought Stephanie, a suitable colour, but the sheen suggested it was in silk twill, which seemed … impractical.

What was also impractical was the way the woman was trying to hang on to Hedley, matching his long strides by running. She saw the duke look at his daughter and thought he was annoyed, but then she remembered Lady Cressida’s remark.

She grasped Fortescue’s arm in passing. ‘Is Atlas so renowned in London? And how did Lady Cressida know Hedley had bought him when Atlas only just arrived in the stables?’

Lord Fortescue looked vague. ‘Atlas is a renowned mount, I believe, but I do not quite know how Lady Cressida found out…’

‘Probably the duke!’ said Stephanie, answering her own question. ‘He likely knows who sold the horse.’

‘Mmm!’ said Fortescue.

The obstacle course contained not only three jumps but narrow, winding alleys of hay bales as well as steps to climb; points were deducted for touching the sides of the alley or missing a hay-bale step. It was not so easy as it looked; faults were made by Horace, even one by Fortescue and two by the duke.

Cressida came next and completed the course perfectly on her lovely horse, Strawberry, over whom Stephanie enthused. She came next on Emperor and also completed a clear round to much praise. Lastly, Hedley rode Atlas with such grace and speed that he was heartily applauded. He looked over at Stephanie behind the fence with the others and she thought his look was one of apology.

As Stephanie jumped and cried out in delight at his prowess, Lady Cressida sneered, ‘Why do you cry out so to the earl and not to Sir Rupert? He also completed a clean round.’

‘You do not understand…’ Then Stephanie remembered herself; she could not betray Hedley’s secret.

‘Oh, I think I do, Miss Marchmont.’ Cressida laughed. ‘You do not wear your plain dress today!’

‘No, because your papa was coming. Everyone must make an effort for His Grace.’ She looked down at her brown-velvet riding dress, stylish, but less extravagant of skirt than Lady Cressida’s. ‘Do you like it?’

‘ I do!’ said Gertrude Galloway, who had approached from the side. ‘It becomes you, Stephanie. It looks well with your hair.’

‘Thank you! It is Mama who thinks of such things, although I think my cousin Ophelia chose this fabric. She has wonderful taste, you know.’

‘I know Ophelia Marchmont,’ sniffed Lady Cressida.

‘I expect you do,’ said Stephanie. ‘She is a famous London beauty.’ Cressida looked offended but Stephanie did not notice. ‘Oh, look! We move ahead for luncheon, I hope!’

Over refreshments at a table set under a large shade of striped, waxed cotton, Hedley arranged to be seated by Stephanie’s side since it was an informal affair where precedence was less important. Sedgewick had begged Fortescue for the seat on her other side and Benjamin Fortescue obliged, with Armitage cocking him an ironic eyebrow for his devilry.

Hedley’s disquiet was amusing his second-best friend just a little too much; it amused Armitage, too, but it was clearly his job to see that Hedley behaved within the bounds of good behaviour whilst obviously unhinged.

Sedgewick chatted with Stephanie about her round and about her family’s progress in London. ‘Phoebe has become admired and feared in equal measure,’ Sedgewick whispered, making Stephanie suppress a giggle. ‘She has, I believe, dealt justice to any number of misbehaving gentlemen!’

‘I am perfectly sure she will be fair,’ Stephanie said. ‘And how goes Roseanna?’

‘I seldom see her when I visit, but she continues her great plans. The Duke of Alness asked me about her one day, so their schemes may be found out!’

‘Oh no!’ Stephanie said with comedic shock. ‘I cannot abide hiding things. I would just tell him.’

‘A glass of lemonade, Stephanie?’ Hedley had evidently overheard and was annoyed that he had no idea of what they referred to, while Sedgewick and she were exchanging family confidences. The earl’s offer was in a rather louder voice than was necessary, which halted the conversation.

Sedgewick encountered the look of death once more from over Stephanie’s shoulder and was half-amused and half-alarmed. He looked to Armitage again, who seemed to bow his head in a silent plea for pardon. But Stephanie turned and accepted the glass from Hedley with a smile, only slightly self-conscious. The exercise had almost restored her to herself. ‘Thank you!’

‘You are not a lady who usually titters,’ Hedley said, his tone sarcastic despite himself. ‘Is Sir Francis so amusing?’

‘He was telling me secrets about my sisters, Phoebe and Roseanna. He has an interesting turn of phrase.’

‘I heard you say he talks nonsense. If you like such nonsense I, too, can indulge you.’ He adopted a charming manner. ‘You look very pretty today, Miss Marchmont.’

‘I know you can talk nonsense, for you do so with Gertrude all the time – but do not do so to me, if you please. I have always liked our honesty between friends.’

Hedley was once more struck dumb by guilt as he stared at her.

‘What is wrong with you? Are you unwell?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid that I have not been as honest as you think, my dear. I am deeply sorry!’

‘ You? Lie? I do not believe it.’ She laughed at him. ‘What lie have you told me?’

‘I cannot say quite yet. It began as a joke, only…’

‘I like to be teased, for Rich says I have too little humour of my own,’ Stephanie explained. ‘I need others to supply it for me. Tell me the joke!’

‘My dear, I…!’ Hedley sent a wild eye to Armitage, who was sitting across from him.

Armitage said, ‘You completed a wonderful round, Stephanie, and your horsemanship is unparalleled. Except by Lady Cressida, of course!’

‘Your mare is magnificent, Lady Cressida, and your skill first class,’ Stephanie said with a smile.

‘I suppose I should thank you for the compliment, Miss Marchmont!’ Her ladyship looked down her nose.

Stephanie was surprised by her tone but the duke chimed in. In a flat voice of warning he said to his daughter, ‘I absolutely suppose you should.’

‘I do thank you, Miss Marchmont,’ said Cressida in a smaller voice. ‘I could see you have some skill yourself.’

‘Well, it was easy, was it not?’ said Stephanie lightly. ‘I expect Hedley didn’t want to embarrass certain people …’ here she looked significantly but teasingly at Pettigrew ‘…and so he did not increase the difficulty.’

‘I thought you said I was better !’ protested Pettigrew.

‘Well, you are, Horace, but we have much to work on. You confused the horse, you know, and that is why you had so many faults.’

‘Do not tell me you give instruction to the gentlemen?’ demanded Lady Cressida. ‘You think a great deal of yourself.’

The table was quiet, for all the residents of Hedley Court feared that the game was now up.

Fearing she might reveal her tutoring of Hedley, Stephanie kicked herself. ‘Only Horace. Not the others!’ she lied.

‘I should think not! The other gentlemen are…’

‘Have I said,’ interrupted Hedley desperately, ‘how well that blue becomes you, Lady Cressida? Does it not, gentlemen?’

There was general assent. The duke frowned at Hedley, for Cressida was preening herself and he and his host had established that the girl be given no encouragement.

When Stephanie rose from the table Gertrude Galloway rose too, but Sedgewick nodded to her. ‘I’ll go!’ he mouthed. Watching the silent little Italian shadow move after them, Gertrude sat down again.

Armitage took Sedgewick’s seat and placed a friendly hand on Hedley’s shoulder to hold him in place. Miss Galloway did her best to reclaim Cressida’s eyes, which were fixed hopefully on Hedley once more, by asking who on earth had made her such a wonderful gown.

Sedgewick came up behind Stephanie, who had walked off a way, and grasped her arm. She put it through his companionably, but she felt a little stiff, he thought. ‘Troubled, Stephanie?’

‘No. I am… To tell you the truth, Sir Francis, I am out of sorts somewhat but I do not understand why.’

Sedgewick had an idea why, and seeing Hedley’s behaviour he felt that such feelings were not one way. He would have said so, because his dealings with Stephanie had always been simple and she was the most straightforward female he had ever known. Now, however, he hesitated because he could not imagine why, if Hedley was so enamoured, he had not already spoken. Might there be some reason that stopped him … a previous attachment, perhaps?

Sedgewick felt he could not help Stephanie understand herself or the earl; there was too much he did not know. Perhaps the girl’s ignorance would be her salvation? Finally he said, ‘Well, if you have partaken enough, perhaps we will go to the next set-up course. Fortescue told me it was archery after lunch.’

Stephanie nodded and they walked on until she said, ‘Do you think Lady Cressida so very pretty?’

‘Not so pretty as you!’ Sedgewick replied.

‘Oh no, nonsense! You would say so like a parrot even if old Lady Blenkinsop had asked you.’

Since this lady, a friend of the Countess of Tremaine, was over seventy years, Sedgewick laughed. ‘Perhaps! But it is quite true in this case. I do not care to compare females, and it is true that Lady Cressida is a classic beauty. But you, my dear, are a unique one.’

‘Oh, there is no point in talking to you of this at all.’ Stephanie sighed dismissively.

She didn’t believe him, and that was part of her charm. She had talked to him before about her sisters’ beauty as though she herself had none. He would not insist today. He felt something in the air here; something was coming to a head. Hedley, the debonair and charming earl, Sedgewick’s cool, calm rival in sports, was not at all himself. He was just – only just – holding onto his emotions. Sedgewick had inspired jealousy before, but not usually of the murderous variety.

Today, totally innocent of all charges, his sang-froid called upon him to be undisturbed, and indeed amused, by the earl’s behaviour, but his sense of danger did not quite allow for it. If he were called out, Sedgewick pondered if he could, in honour, press for swords because Hedley definitely had the edge on him with pistols, as he had demonstrated frequently at Manton’s Shooting Gallery in Town.

‘Of what do you think, Sir Francis?’ Stephanie asked.

‘Fencing!’

‘Oh, I showed Hedley your disarm!’

‘Is that when you fought with the footpads?’ he asked, confused.

‘Oh, no, afterwards! When I was tut—’ Stephanie changed the sentence. ‘When we sparred, you know!’

‘Oh,’ said Sedgewick. What was this? Stephanie giving lessons to Hedley? And earlier, when the earl had interrupted Lady Cressida… Did the gentlemen not wish the girl to know Hedley was a pre-eminent sportsman? Was that why Stephanie was in transports at the earl’s success in the riding obstacles’ course? A good joke, he thought, but it would seem to have led to unforeseen consequences.

They had reached the archery field. A few chairs had been placed around it for the audience and Sedgewick indicated one to his companion, but Stephanie climbed nimbly onto the fence and dangled her legs over it. This looked rather perilous, so Sedgewick came forward to put a light protective hand on the small of her back.

She felt it, squirmed and said, ‘I don’t need…’ but looking over her shoulder at him in the midst of a squirm caused her to fall back and his hand caught her in time.

‘You were saying , Stephanie…’ Sir Francis said sarcastically, and she looked down at him, laughing at herself.

Suddenly there was a firm hand wrapped around her slender waist and Hedley, with purchase from the bottom rung of the fence, toppled her off. Her back was pinned to the side of his waist, her feet a foot or more from the ground. ‘That is too dangerous, Stephanie!’ he chided.

‘Hedley!’ she protested, but as she looked over her shoulder at him she saw that his face was pointed belligerently at Francis Sedgewick as he admonished her. Sedgewick had staggered when Hedley’s arm had dislodged his hand from Stephanie’s back and he looked annoyed. And Hedley looked … ready .

‘I’ll take her!’ said the soothing voice of Benjamin Fortescue. ‘Give her to me and go and check the field, Max.’

Stephanie, still dazed, was handed over like a package to Fortescue and was now at his waist instead. ‘Ben!’ she protested, but Fortescue kept her at his side until Hedley was some way down the path. ‘Stay still, girl!’ he adjured. ‘Max is a trifle out of sorts, and you doing dangerous things annoys him.’

‘Sitting on a fence?’ protested Stephanie. ‘Dangerous? ’

‘You did almost fall off, Titch!’ Sedgewick said, recovering his good humour.

Fortescue (who had come ahead at Armitage’s nod to run after Hedley, since the earl, in anger, had followed Sedgewick) now saw the rest of the party approaching from a distance. ‘I shall put you down now, Stephanie, but no kicking,’ he admonished. ‘The duke is in view.’

He lowered her but she did not kick; instead, she looked after Hedley. ‘What is wrong with him these days?’

‘You should ask him,’ suggested Sedgewick brightly.

Fortescue rolled his eyes. ‘You should,’ he recommended calmly. ‘But not in front of others, my dear, since it concerns his privacy.’

‘Oh dear , Lady Cressida has not found out about my lessons?’ the girl asked desperately. ‘I thought I turned it off…’

‘Lessons?’ said Sedgewick with interest, though he had guessed the joke already.

‘I want a word with you,’ Fortescue said to Sedgewick. He drew him out of earshot of Stephanie, who was now leaning over the fence in not a particularly ladylike stance, looking towards the archery field. ‘I would advise you to have no untoward thoughts about Stephanie Marchmont, Sedgewick.’

‘I love her dearly, but she’s not in my line.’

‘She is not in Hedley’s either … but…!’

‘He has fallen?’

Fortescue said nothing but after a minute added as clarification, ‘He has visited her mother.’

‘Lady Eleanor? So that was what was wrong with Dorian…’

‘Dorian Marchmont? What has he to say to anything? He likes Stephanie?’

‘No, no, or only as I do. But …! That is to reveal another time!’

‘Stephanie, by the way, has no idea,’ Fortescue went on. ‘Hedley will have to explain it to her, I suspect. She thinks of him as a brother.’

‘No, she thinks so of the rest of you – and me too – but not Hedley.’

‘Why do you say so?’

The duke’s party were almost upon them so Sedgewick answered in a low voice, ‘She wanted to know if I felt that Lady Cressida was pretty!’

‘Ooooh!’ said Fortescue, seeing the significance.

‘Miss Marchmont!’ said Lady Cressida. ‘Sandwiched between two gentlemen?’

‘And six attendants,’ commented Gertrude Galloway acidly, having had quite enough of this kind of remark from that young lady.

‘Do you call these gentlemen?’ scoffed Stephanie. ‘Ben just lifted me like a sack of potatoes and Sir Francis nearly overturned me and has yet to apologise.’ She had jumped from the first rung of the fence and turned to look at Lady Cressida. ‘Why do you not like me? It was so at the Lodge gates, too!’

Gertrude thought this a master stroke; if only Stephanie knew that she had delivered one. But the girl was simply curious and her tone of enquiry held no malice.

Cressida, with one set of angry eyes (her papa’s) and four sets of ironic eyes (Armitage’s, Fortescue’s, Pettigrew’s and Miss Galloway’s) on her, said with faux sweetness, ‘Oh, it is not so. It is simply that you are unlike any young lady in Town, I think. Unused to society. A trifle rustique !’

‘Rustic?’ agreed Stephanie, pleased. ‘Oh yes, that is me! I have lived most of my life in the country, except when we were in Edinburgh or Dublin,’ Lady Cressida looked down her nose at these provincial cities, ‘or New York, or Rome, or Berlin or somewhere. And there was a sort of city in the Indies that I remember a bit, but I was a little young.’

‘You are much travelled, little one,’ remarked Fortescue.

‘Oh, Papa’s work, you know. And now Richard’s. Mama likes us all to go.’

Lady’s Cressida’s mouth was agape and her father frowned at her. ‘I do not find you rustic in the slightest, my dear girl!’ said the duke, bowing over Stephanie’s hand. ‘Just a natural young lady, so different from the false manners of upstart females these days.’

Stephanie smiled. ‘You, Your Grace, are as bad as Sir Francis.’

That gentleman heard the duke hiss to his daughter, ‘ One more such unpleasant remark, Cressida, and I shall send you off immediately. ’

Hedley called them all to come forward and Gertrude Galloway planted her feet, but Stephanie grasped her hand and caused her to run to her stand, the first time Gertrude had run in ten years. It was even longer since she had held a bow and she fumbled. Lady Cressida, trying to ingratiate herself, came forward to help her. The gentlemen’s stands were further back and off to one side less an ill-aimed arrow should hurt a lady.

Stephanie won two ladies’ rounds and Cressida was furious; on the third round, Horace Pettigrew shouted at Stephanie to put her off and she turned, bow drawn and arrowed, and pointed it at him directly. Morag, from the side, screamed at her, and Stephanie swung back to the target but the distraction seemed to have upset her aim for the bad shot caused her to lose the round.

‘I fear I was simply fodder for your victories, girls!’ said Miss Galloway sadly, and the others smiled. But indeed she had done better than expected: no missed targets, and her aim was better with every shot.

When Lady Cressida kindly told her this, Miss Galloway only replied, ‘Yes, if we stayed on the field a year or so more, I might have caught up with you!’

‘Pietro!’ called Stephanie. ‘Show the gentlemen your skills!’

The little man came forward, removing his knife on the way, and in one smooth move hit the bull’s eye. He grinned. The company gasped.

‘I won!’ crowed Stephanie to the men’s stand.

‘From there who couldn’t hit the target,’ scoffed Pettigrew. ‘Try from back here. You simply do not have the strength.’

Stephanie ran over, took up his bow, pulled back fully and hit the edge of the bull’s eye! She stuck out her tongue at Pettigrew and ran back to the ladies. ‘See if you do better!’ she called back at him.

‘Stephanie, stop being a hoyden!’ advised Miss Galloway in a bland voice.

Stephanie, not a whit repentant, said, ‘Sorry, Gertrude.’

They watched the men’s contest, which was a close-run thing. To Stephanie’s surprise, Horace Pettigrew was good with the arrow, but he was no match for the other five; even the duke was strong of shoulder and eye. Sedgewick and Hedley were the closest match and, since it was a knockout, were the last two standing.

Stephanie was amazed. She could not take her eyes off Hedley’s perfect stance, his broad, flexed shoulders or his deadly, concentrating eye. His face in profile was strong and manly and mesmerising; he looked nothing like the careful fumbling man she had known at the beginning of their acquaintance.

When he had been declared the winner, she picked up her skirts, ran to him and grasped his arm, saying, ‘Oh Hedley! You are so good! Why did you not tell me you were so wonderful with the arrow?’

He looked down at her; the gentlemen in a circle around them could see that she had no idea how much she gave herself away. She gazed back, so happy for him and proud, and the world stopped. But then Lady Cressida arrived and pulled Stephanie’s arm roughly from Hedley’s.

Gertrude Galloway was trying to catch up, fearing a calamity. Morag, seated on the other side of the fence, stood abruptly and entered the course as quickly as her old legs would let her.

‘Miss Marchmont! What are you doing?’ Cressida demanded. ‘You accost the earl in this fashion after showing off all day and pushing yourself before the gentlemen!’

‘Cressida!’ said the duke.

But her father’s voice did not reach her; her anger and jealousy had made her deaf. ‘You single out Hedley, no doubt as the man of higher rank …’ she shouted.

Stephanie, stunned by this intercession, had not quite recovered. A second or two earlier she had been in another place with Hedley, quite alone it seemed, and then there was a screaming madwoman in her face.

‘No … not because he is an earl but because he is my student .’ She turned to the other gentlemen. ‘Wasn’t his balance much improved, Sir Rupert? Ben, were you expecting his aim to be so true?’

For some reason the two men looked shamefaced. Armitage muttered, ‘Much improved.’

‘Hah! I see!’ said Lady Cressida. ‘You are nothing more than the butt of a joke, Miss Marchmont! You have been tutoring the best sportsman in the land . The gentlemen laugh at you!’

Stephanie looked to Sir Francis. ‘You knew? Is he?’

Sedgewick gave her a wry look. ‘I fear so, my dear.’

‘Stephanie, dearest , don’t be upset,’ pleaded Gertrude Galloway.

‘Oh, I am not upset!’ Stephanie said, shaking her head. A smile on her face greeted this, but it faltered somewhat.

‘No? But all your so-called friends lied to you.’ Looking around the men, Cressida felt ashamed, despite her sarcasm. She knew herself despised, but her fury towards this girl had grown. She had her finger in and made to make the tear larger.

‘We are sorry, Stephanie,’ said Ben Fortescue, his burly arms taking her shoulders.

She smiled and backed away, looking to the flushed Lady Cressida. ‘They are not liars but jesters . Do not accuse them so.’ Stephanie turned shining, confused eyes to Hedley. ‘ You were the best… How you did fool me!’

‘I am bitterly sorry, Stephanie,’ he replied, reaching for her.

She avoided his comforting hand. ‘No, no, I just want to run it off! I will be fine presently!’ She turned and took off.

Gertrude Galloway wanted to follow but Morag, who had arrived chuffing, held her back. ‘We’ll never catch her, lass. That is what Pietro is for!’

Hedley turned to follow but Armitage stopped him. ‘Take care of this first!’

‘I apologise for the dreadful—’ began the enraged and embarrassed duke.

‘Hedley!’ cried Cressida, taking a step towards him, but she was held back. She looked back, amazed, but found that her dress was caught on a knife which impaled it to the earth. In a second a blurred little figure ran back to her, then followed Stephanie Marchmont again. She was released. She fell forward, Hedley caught her but set her right in half a second and stepped back.

‘Your Grace, I have tried to deal with this situation maturely, but after today’s fiasco, you will forgive me for no longer being polite,’ The duke hung his head. Hedley said firmly. ‘Lady Cressida, I am aware of your interest in me and have been for some time. You are quite right to have deduced my interest in Miss Marchmont, which is no doubt why you say unpleasant things to her, but she has no notion of it. But you must know that it is no fault of Miss Marchmont’s that you and I do not suit, it was no different in London. You are very pretty, as well as rich and intelligent and talented, and so it is better not to try to force an outcome with one to whom you are not suited when you have so many suitors. You knew I did not want it but still pursued me. For my rank? For I do not feel you understand me, or even know me at all.’

Cressida tilted her head up, but tears shone in her eyes. ‘I chose you because you are the best …!’ she said haughtily.

It was best not to spare her, so he replied, ‘Like the richest silk in the drapers? That does not flatter me.’

‘ Enough, Hedley!’ said the duke, looking at the raised colour in his daughter’s face and the tears in her eye.

‘You can do better than I, my dear lady, if you are but more honest with yourself,’ Hedley said more gently.

The duke was trying to draw her to his side, but she shook him off. ‘You will go to her ?’ Cressida scoffed.

‘If she will have me,’ he answered gravely, ‘but it is no foregone conclusion. Stephanie thinks nothing of my rank, you see.’

‘But you all lied to her.’ She gazed round the circle of watchers.

‘We played with her, but we are all devoted to her now,’ said Pettigrew. ‘You wouldn’t understand. I am her servant forever.’

‘Cressida, it is time we left,’ sighed the duke, taking her elbow.

She shook him off once more. ‘No, Papa. I wish to ride to Hardcastle alone.’

‘Not when you are upset, my dear,’ said Gertrude gently.

‘I do not need your pity! I want to be alone,’ Cressida retorted. She ran off and the duke sighed.

‘Some brandy, I think, Your Grace,’ said Sedgewick, putting a friendly arm on his shoulder. ‘With your permission Hedley…?’

But the earl had gone. The others walked back to the house; their steps heavy because of these events.