had the misfortune to come off her horse and I was able to assist her.’
Mrs Kensley tittered. ‘Have I not always said that big horse is no mount for a lady?’
Her remark was ignored. Mr Havenham turned a frowning look upon Annabelle.
‘My dear child, you said nothing of this to me.’
‘Because it was of so little importance, Papa.’
‘But you did not tell me you had met Mr Monserrat.’
‘We were not introduced,’ she explained, keeping her voice cool. ‘And he merely helped me back into the saddle.’
‘Oh, my love, have I not said you should take your groom when you are out riding?’
Her tormentor nodded. ‘Let me add my entreaties to your father’s, Miss Havenham. You can never be sure what dangers you might meet in the woods.’
She almost gasped at his impertinence, but contented herself with a swift, angry glance as she addressed her father. ‘You have, sir, and in future I shall make sure I am always accompanied.’
Mrs Kensley was watching the interchange closely. She gave a little cough to remind everyone of her presence.
‘Perhaps you should consider selling such a dangerous brute, Mr Havenham,’ she suggested. ‘That would save you a deal of worry.’
Annabelle felt her temper rising, but support came from a surprising quarter.
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ remarked Mr Monserrat. ‘I suspect the lady would be a most uncomfortable companion if she was obliged to give up her riding.’
‘You are very right, sir. My poor father would soon be at his wits’ end with me. No, Mrs Kensley, it will be a sad day indeed when I am forced to part with Apollo.’
With a tight little smile she led her father away, muttering under her breath, ‘Insufferable woman! She delights in our troubles.’
Her father patted her arm. ‘Hush now, Belle. People are bound to talk about our economies. We must bear it as best we can. It will soon pass, when there is more fruitful gossip to be had.’
‘You are right, Father, and I beg your pardon. I am not as forbearing as you.’
‘You are young, my love, and impatient of adversity. These little setbacks happen and there are always those who will revel in others’ misfortune. We will smile and show them it is a small matter.’
‘Always so kind, Papa, always so gentle. I will try to learn from your example.’
‘You are a good girl, Belle.’ He patted her cheek. ‘Now, let me sit by the fire with my old friends while you go and enjoy yourself with the younger set!’
The Rishworths were well known for their lively dinners, and when they sat down at the table Annabelle found herself with a group that included Celia Rishworth and Lizzie Scanlon, two young ladies who were determined to enjoy themselves. She was some distance from her father, but since he was seated comfortably between his hostess and Mrs Hall she knew he would be happily entertained during the meal. Mr Monserrat was also at that end of the table. He appeared to be at ease with his company, but throughout the meal she was aware of his dark and enigmatic presence, watching and listening.
The dinner was excellent and the company determined to be pleased. Lucas set himself to entertain the ladies on either side of him, expertly drawing them out to talk about themselves and deftly turning aside all questions about his own background. On one side was Mrs Kensley, the widow whose caustic remarks had inflamed Miss Havenham. While cleverly eluding all her attempts to learn more about him, he encouraged her to talk. Lucas had her measure and took none of her comments or opinions at face value, but from her artless chatter he gained a great deal of valuable information about the neighbourhood.
As the meal progressed he studied Samuel Havenham, seated across the table from him. He had learned that Havenham’s health was not good, but this merely confirmed his own impression. The old man ate sparingly, just enough to avoid offending his hostess, and his wine glass rarely required topping up. However, it was easy to see that Samuel Havenham was a well-respected figure in the area, and despite being obliged to give up his carriage he was still regarded as a man of some standing. Lucas let the conversation flow around him as he continued to watch Samuel. He noticed how often his eyes strayed to his daughter, sitting at the far end of the table.
‘Miss Havenham is the belle of our local circle,’ offered Mrs Kensley, following his glance.
‘Is she?’
The widow tittered at his cool response. ‘Oh, she is not as pretty as Miss Rishworth, nor Miss Scanlon, but she is Miss Havenham of Oakenroyd.’
‘You mean it is only her fortune that makes her so appealing.’
Mrs Kensley gave an arch laugh. ‘Oh, Mr Monserrat, that is very wicked of you, of course I do not mean any such thing! Miss Havenham is a very good sort of girl. She has been a little spoiled perhaps, but then her papa quite dotes on her. Although that is no wonder, Miss Havenham being his only surviving child. However, for my part, I find her manners a little too forward for one so young.’
‘And how old is she?’ he enquired, helping the widow to another slice of lemon tart.
‘Not yet one-and-twenty, although she rides around on that big horse of hers as if she were lady of the manor.’ Mrs Kensley stopped, her knife and fork poised in mid-air. ‘But of course that will have to end now, won’t it, sir, since you are now the owner of Morwood Manor.’ She gave another of her irritating titters. ‘Unless, that is, you are tempted to offer for her? I warn you, Mr Keighley is there before you.’
Lucas smiled vaguely and sipped at his wine. The young people at the other end of the table were enjoying a lively conversation, with Annabelle Havenham at their centre. Mrs Kensley was right, the two other young ladies would be considered more beautiful than Annabelle Havenham. Her figure was good, but no better than others he had seen, her features were regular and her soft brown hair was simply dressed. Celia Rishworth’s vivacity made her dark curls dance about her head and Miss Scanlon’s fair prettiness was set off by an over-decorated gown that must have cost her father a pretty penny, but there was something about Miss Havenham’s quiet elegance that caught the attention. He remembered she had looked magnificent when riding and it was hard to forget the disconcertingly direct gaze of her grey eyes.
His own gaze moved on around the table until it reached James Keighley. A widower, he had been informed. They had been introduced earlier and Lucas had summed up Keighley as a country gentleman of comfortable means, some years older than himself. Was there an understanding between the man and Miss Havenham? Keighley had brought the Oakenroyd party in his own carriage, but Lucas had noticed no special attention between the pair since then. If he had been enamoured of the lady, or if he had been a hot-headed young suitor then he might have been a nuisance, but Lucas did not think Keighley’s interest in Miss Havenham was likely to affect his own plans.
When the ladies withdrew, their host gave a signal to the butler.
‘Now we can be comfortable.’ He leaned forwards to address Lucas. ‘I know you were a military man, Monserrat, but I hope you won’t think us unpatriotic to bring French brandy to the table now that the emperor has finally been defeated.’
‘Not
