The Marquess Finds Romance Read online

  “By ‘I’m good,’ did you mean that you do not wish to continue philosophizing on the various aspects of superiority, Miss Ferguson?”

  They emerged from the woods and entered the meadow once again.

  “Yes, that’s what I mean,” she said. “I’d rather just focus on the ride rather than fuss about who’s better than whom.”

  Lord Carswell glanced up at Miss Ferguson, who continued to pat the horse’s neck. He felt heat surge to his cheeks.

  “Miss Ferguson, you say you would rather ‘focus on the ride,’ and then you offer a challenge. I have never stated that I was ‘better than’ you.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “No, certainly not. I am far too well bred to say such things.”

  “And there you go again,” she murmured. “Jasper, tell the man.”

  “Tell me what precisely?”

  “You just said you’re too well bred to say such things. Honestly, Lord Carswell, you’ve done nothing but ‘look down on me’ since you met me, and don’t say that you haven’t. Do you think a person can’t tell when they are being judged? When someone of wealth and entitlement thinks they’re better? I clean houses for some of those lovely people. I’ve been superior’d to death, if you know what I mean. You’re not the first person to look down on me and you won’t be the last.”

  Lord Carswell stilled the horse and turned to look up at Miss Ferguson.

  “Oh, nooooo,” she said. “Don’t stop the ride. Jasper and I were just getting in a rhythm. Look, I’ll shut up if you promise to keep him going.”

  Lord Carswell opened his mouth to speak but could think of nothing to say that would not cause offense. He wondered if there was anything he could say at all which Miss Ferguson might take kindly.

  “Yes, of course,” he said, resuming his walk. “Riding the horse is not contingent upon your silence,” he could not resist adding.

  “Well, it looked like it for a moment when you stopped.”

  “I was taken aback.”

  She did not reply, and Lord Carswell found himself at a loss. “It would behoove me to stop speaking,” he said, hoping she would disagree.

  “Good boy, Jasper,” Miss Ferguson said, rubbing the horse’s neck.

  For someone with no experience on horses, she managed her seat very well without a lady’s saddle.

  Lord Carswell fell silent and led the horse out through the meadow, following the path he and St. John had previously ridden. He knew Miss Ferguson to have decided preferences. When she wished to stop or turn back, he presumed she would let him know.

  They passed the sheep, several of which trailed them. Miss Ferguson looked over her shoulder and began to laugh. Lord Carswell smiled despite himself. Her laugh was infectious, full bodied and genuine.

  “Stay, sheepies!” she called out. “Stay there!”

  Lord Carswell looked over his shoulder to see that the followers did indeed fall back and return to the flock. He raised his head to see that she regarded him from her perch.

  “They call me the sheep whisperer,” she said, a broad smile lighting her face as sunshine glowed upon daisies.

  “Why do they call you a sheep whisperer?”

  “It’s a joke,” she said, her countenance still cheerful. “It’s just a joke.”

  “Will you explain it to me? I wish to learn.”

  “There was a story once about a horse whisperer, a man who could train horses gently, who could talk to them and get them to do what he wanted. I don’t really know how long the term has been used. Then someone else used it for dogs, and someone else for other animals. So I used it for the sheep as a joke. I’m sure there’s probably a real sheep whisperer out there somewhere.”

  “Perhaps a shepherd? Or more aptly, a shepherdess?”

  “Aha! Like Little Bo Peep!”

  “Little Bo Peep?” Lord Carswell repeated.

  “A nursery rhyme, might be after your time. ‘Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and can’t tell where to find them’?”

  “How quaint. Does she find them?”

  “I can’t remember actually.”

  Chapter Six

  “What?” Janie asked. “You’re the second person to ask me that today.”

  “Who was the first?”

  “Hickstrom, as it happens. I had an early morning visit from her.”

  Lord Carswell’s head jerked up in her direction.

  “Indeed! She came to visit you again? From what I understand, that may not bode well for you. Do not her visits mean a marriage is imminent for you?”

  “Oh, no! No, no and no! Hickstrom and I have an understanding. I came here as Clara’s friend, just to visit. There is no fairy-tale match for me, no story in the book, nothing. No!”

  “Then you must be the exception. If I am not mistaken, to date she has matched Mary, Rachel and Clara, is that correct?”

  “That’s what I hear. But they all read from Hickstrom’s Book of Fairy Tales. Soooo...”

  “So?”

  “So that’s what she does. She has them read from the book and, voila, time travel!”

  “And you have not read the book?”

  “No, not really. Oh, I read a line or two with Clara to encourage her, but that’s about it. Nope.”

  “You said that Miss Hickstrom asked you about the book?”

  “Well, she asked if there was a copy around, presumably in Alvord Castle. Historically, I think the book remains in the twenty-first century, right? How else could the women read it and travel back in time?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Why did you ask about it?”

  “When you mentioned nursery rhymes, I was reminded of the book that I have heard so much about. I have been curious regarding the book and wished to peruse it.”

  “Be careful what you wish for. You might end up traveling back in time.”

  “Back in time?” he asked. “Not forward?”

  “I haven’t heard of the book being used to travel forward in time. At any rate, I haven’t heard of men traveling any which way. I’m just saying...be careful what you wish for. Hickstrom is a powerful woman. I’ve seen it.”

  “Seen what?”

  “I’ve seen her vanish into thin air. I’ve seen her send people through time. I’ve been one of those people she transported through time.”

  “What was that like?”

  Janie had already tried to recall the sensation.

  “Kind of like falling. Falling asleep? I can’t really describe it. Mostly like slipping away into darkness. And then waking up here.”

  “Remarkable,” Lord Carswell said.

  Janie looked over Jasper’s head to see that they had entered another strip of woods. Her sideways perch on his back was precarious at best, the material of her dress slippery against the smooth saddle. She would have hauled her leg over Jasper’s back to sit astride if she didn’t think Lord Carswell’s opinion of her would have taken a further nosedive. Her hands had started to ache from her tight grip on the pommel.

  “We should probably turn back, Lord Carswell,” she said.

  “At once,” he replied, turning the horse’s head. “I wonder if you might consider calling me James. I am informally known as James Landry, and I did so enjoy being called such when I visited America. Here in England, we tend to be more formal.”

  “You’ve been to the United States?”

  “America, yes. To Virginia.”

  “Oh, how about that? Even I’ve never been to Virginia.”

  “Amusing story about that. When I first met Clara, Lady Rowe, she told me she was from Virginia. Having just returned from there, I quizzed her on the state, seeking to share my enjoyment of the region. She must have been so unhappy because she is actually from your Washington State. I was blinded by—” He paused. “I was blinded and did not see her obvious discomfort when I spoke of Virginia. I presume, like you, she has never been there either?”

  Janie heard something odd in Lord Carswell’s voice, in James’s voic
e. Mary said he’d had a crush on Clara. Did he still?

  “I don’t know.”

  “It is of no consequence,” he said. “I do not know why I mentioned it.”

  “No?”

  James glanced up at her. “No, it is neither here nor there. I understand now that time travelers must be circumspect to avoid discovery. To be discovered as having traveled through time by magic would no doubt relegate one to a cell in Bedlam or of suspicion of witchcraft, though we English are not a very superstitious people. The Scots and Irish now, they have their witches and leprechauns.”

  “You English aren’t superstitious? Really? I’m don’t believe that’s quite accurate. I’m pretty sure you were burning women as witches less than a hundred years ago. In fact, I think Wicca started here in England in the early twentieth century, not that I’m calling that superstition, but...” She let her sentence end.

  “Wicca?”

  “I think I’ve seen it referred to as modern pagan witchcraft. I read an article on it once. Anyway, I get your point. We time travelers have to lie to protect ourselves. That’s true in the twenty-first century as well. Time travel isn’t a real thing where I come from. No one knows anyone who has traveled through time, so if we truly believed we had hopped through the years, we might be encouraged to get some counseling as well. They don’t necessarily lock us up in asylums anymore if we’re not a danger to ourselves or others.”

  James fell silent, and Janie resumed wondering about the depth of his feelings for Clara, and if they had changed given that Clara had married.

  “James?” She tried saying his name aloud. By that time, they were passing back through the meadow.

  “Yes, Miss Ferguson?” He glanced up at her.

  “Well, it’s Janie if I’m calling you James, right?”

  “Janie, then. What did you wish to ask?”

  “Are you in love with Clara?”

  Janie’s heart pounded at the audacity of her question. She noted that James’s top hat didn’t move, as if he didn’t intend to look up at her. Moments passed, and she wondered if he was going to answer her at all.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  Janie almost fell off the horse. She hadn’t really expected such a bold declaration. In fact, she hadn’t even wanted to hear such an answer. She had honestly thought he would prevaricate or even deny being in love with Clara.

  A shiver went down her spine, but sweat broke out on her upper lip. She raised a cold hand to wipe at her face. When her pulse throbbed in her ears, she realized she’d been holding her breath. She released it, kept her eyes on the woods ahead, and dragged in another deep breath.

  She wasn’t stupid. She realized that her reaction was of acute disappointment. Somehow, somewhere, she’d become attracted to James, and it hurt to hear he was in love with Clara.

  “Janie?”

  She heard a voice through the pulse pounding in her ears.

  “Miss Ferguson? I may not know you well, but I am surprised at your silence. You are not normally so silent. Please understand that although I still hold Clara in my affections, I understand that she is a married lady and shall behave accordingly. Does that reassure you?”

  “Not my business,” Janie said tightly.

  “Perhaps not, but you did ask the question, and I chose to answer you.”

  Janie would have preferred to say she wished he hadn’t, but she didn’t. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have any advice for me?”

  Janie gasped inwardly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I wondered if you had any advice. Perhaps some suggestions on mending a broken heart.”

  Janie rolled her eyes. “Stop the horse!” she called out.

  James looked up in alarm and stilled Jasper. Janie slid off the horse’s back and hit the ground hard.

  “Ouch!”

  “Janie, whatever are you about? Had I known you wished to alight, I would have assisted you.”

  “No problem,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I’m tired of riding. My backside hurts, and I want to walk.”

  “Your—”

  “Backside, James. Backside!”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you.”

  “Okay then!” Janie stomped on ahead, and James caught up to her, leading Jasper.

  “Is anything amiss, Janie? You seem...angry.”

  “Me? Angry? Why would I be angry?” She kept her eyes on the path, the bridge in the near distance.

  “I cannot say. We had such a delightful moment of truce, but that seems to have vanished on the wind.”

  “There is no wind,” Janie said, her jaw still tight. “No breeze at all.”

  “It was merely an expression, not particularly eloquent.”

  Janie kept marching, swinging her arms vigorously.

  “Janie?”

  “What, for goodness’ sake? What?”

  “Please tell me how I angered you. I had asked you for advice, and then you seemed to become angry.”

  Janie stopped and turned to James.

  “I don’t have any advice! What advice can I give you? Clara is married, and she’s in love with her husband. You’ll just have to learn to live with that, right? You’ll find someone else, James. I’m sure there are plenty of nineteenth-century women who would love you. You’ll be fine. You really will.”

  James stared at her with blank blue eyes, quite clearly masking his thoughts.

  “Thank you for your counsel,” he said quietly. “After my wife, Arabella, passed ten years ago, I thought never to marry again. The marriage was not a happy one, and I wanted nothing further to do with the institution. When I met Clara, I found myself contemplating marriage once again, desiring the love that I had never known with my wife. I felt hope as I had not known for years. I desired romance.”

  “Well, why on earth would you marry a woman you didn’t love?” Janie’s voice cracked.

  James reared his head as if she’d smacked him, then he blinked and seemed to search for words.

  “My father desired the union. Her father desired the union. We wed, but we did not suit. There is little more to say about it.”

  “You’re kidding! How long were you married?”

  “I married when I was twenty. We were wed for eighteen years when she passed away.”

  Janie had her answer about his age.

  “So you’re forty-eight?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “And you said you’d had no children?”

  “That is correct. My wife and I lived largely separate lives. She preferred the excitement of London. I chose to spend most of my days at Wayburn Hall.”

  “Is London exciting?” Janie asked.

  “My wife obviously regarded it as such. She had a paramour, a gentleman even older than I. I believe she found the romance and love that she could not find with me.”

  “Oh, James,” Janie said in a mournful tone. “I’m so sorry.”

  James shook his head wordlessly, then resumed leading the horse. Janie fell into step beside him.

  “No need for pity,” he finally said. “As I said, I enjoyed my bachelorhood.”

  “Until you met Clara.”

  “I did not realize that I yearned for romance.”

  Janie fell silent. What could she say? She had already spewed rather snarky advice about “getting over it.” She had nothing further to offer but sympathy, resentful as it was.

  They crossed over the bridge and returned to the castle parklands in awkward silence. James seemed lost in thought on the return, and Janie struggled with what she recognized as jealousy. She couldn’t believe that she was jealous about a man whom she could barely tolerate several hours before, but the little green monster was jumping up and down on her shoulder and shouting in her ear.

  He’s in love with Clara! He’s in love with Clara! Na-na-na-na-na-na. You have no chance! None. Zip! He doesn’t really even like you. Well, he didn’t like you. I’m not sure if he does now, or maybe he just tolerates you. Doesn’t matter ’
cause he’s in love with Clara!

  Janie couldn’t understand what her monster meant by “no chance.” No chance with James? Was she seriously contemplating staying in the nineteenth century? That was a big fat no!

  “Yoo-hooo!” a female voice called from the direction of the bridge.

  Chapter Seven

  Lord Carswell looked up to see Miss Hickstrom, splendidly if ostentatiously garbed in a royal-blue silk dress fit for court in the previous century.

  “This cannot be good,” he said, echoing Mary’s words.

  “Hello! Hellllooo!” Miss Hickstrom called out.

  “Hello, Hickstrom!” Janie responded across the short distance between them. “You’re back!”

  “I feel as if I never left, my dear,” she said as they approached the bridge upon which she stood. “Good day, Lord Carswell. How nice to see you enjoying the fresh air again...and with our dear Miss Ferguson no less.”

  Lord Carswell bowed.

  “Good day, Miss Hickstrom. Miss Ferguson told me you had visited her this morning. Did you never leave, or have you returned for another visit? Perhaps with Lady Mary?”

  Lord Carswell regretted his words. They seemed rather peevish, but he did not feel bad tempered at the fairy godmother’s presence. His earlier discussion with Janie had left him saddened, perhaps due to the subject of his affections for Clara or of his wasted marriage.

  “I did leave, and I have returned!” she said with an airy wave of a flounced sleeve.

  “To see me?” Janie asked.

  “To see both you and Lord Carswell,” she said.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Lord Carswell saw Janie turn to look at him.

  “Miss Hickstrom, please do not do this,” he said.

  “Do what?” Janie asked. “You don’t think she’s going to try to—”

  Janie turned on the fairy godmother, who regarded them with an enigmatic smile.

  “Hickstrom!” she cried out in an accusatory tone. “You wouldn’t!”

  Miss Hickstrom quirked a silver eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You wouldn’t—” Janie jerked her head in Lord Carswell’s direction. “You don’t plan to...fix us up, do you? Because that wasn’t our agreement!”