Devin Northcott and the Earl of Brampton were riding slowly in the opposite direction, discussing the issues of a morning debate in the House.
"By Jove, it's Miss Wells!" Devin suddenly exclaimed, paling noticeably. The next moment his horse sprang into a gallop, responding to the vicious prod of Devin's spurs.
A startled Brampton took in the scene at a glance. Charlotte was indeed flying in his direction, bent low over her horse's neck. Charles was in hot pursuit, and Northcott was now approaching at an angle designed to cut her off. Brampton could not decide on the instant if Charlotte was in danger or not, but he also spurred his horse ahead.
Charlotte was suddenly made aware of another horseman-Mr. Northcott!-galloping toward her, wheeling his horse sharply about, and bringing it in close to hers. The race took on a new thrill. She felt sudden indignation, though, when his hand reached out and caught her horse's bridle just above the bit and hung grimly on until the mare slowed to a trot and then stopped altogether.
Devin dismounted quickly, grasped Charlotte firmly by the waist, and lifted her to the ground. He held her against his fast-beating heart for a few moments until he became aware of the impropriety of such a situation.
"Quite safe now, my dear," he muttered soothingly to the feather of her riding hat. "Must tell Bram to find you a quieter mount."
Charlotte, who had been furious at being so effectively prevented from completing the race, was by now unaccountably demure. "Mr. Northcott, whatever would I have done without you?" she said breathlessly.
He coughed. "Glad to be of service," he said.
"Were you really in danger, Charlotte, my love?" Charles asked with concern, dismounting beside them and breaking a certain spell.
"I have not much experience at riding," she lied meekly.
"I suggest that you take Charlotte home at once and let my wife tend to her, Charles," Brampton said from his horse's back.
Charlotte held out a timid right hand. "Thank you, sir," she said, smiling shyly up at Devin, "for saving me from a nasty tumble."
"M' pleasure," he mumbled, bowing over her hand.
"Charlotte, you fraud," was Charles' sympathetic comment as they rode away in the direction of the park entrance. "You were not in danger for one moment. That fellow has a tendre for you. Were you teasing him?"
"Mr. Northcott?" asked Charlotte, her eyes wide with innocence. "You mistake, sir. He is so old!"
He laughed. "All of thirty, I believe."
Back near the oak tree, Devin Northcott was mounting his horse again, muttering to himself. "Charlotte, my love!" he was saying in disgust.
On the following day Brampton announced that he was moving his household to the country for at least a couple of weeks. He had estate business at Brampton Court that had been needing his attention for some time. He had intended to travel down alone and stay for a few days, but had found himself making several excuses for not doing so. He and his wife had taken on the responsibility of chaperoning Charlotte during her come-out Season. Although he had every confidence in his wife's wisdom and discretion, and knew that she could control her sister's more impulsive nature, he still felt that they needed him to lend support as an escort to various social functions. He knew that he could rely on his brother and his best friend to escort the ladies in his absence, but somehow he found the thought distasteful.
Then, of course, there was his budding romance with the mysterious lady whom he could call only his angel. He hated to leave just at a time when he had established contact with her again, and just when it seemed that a very satisfactory affair was developing. But then again, he found that the situation was not really bringing him much joy. He did not want an affair with her; he wanted a relationship. And, even more confusing, there was the fact that he wanted to be faithful to his wife; he wanted to build an affectionate relationship with her, too.
Finally Brampton had to admit that his real reluctance to leave had entirely to do with his own comfort. Who, at Brampton Court, would remember to order his favorite meals? Who would listen quietly and with interest to his political theories and his various concerns over his estates, his horses, and other personal matters? And who would screen his visitors so that he saw only persons he would find interesting, while she sat patiently conversing with all the bores? Brampton did not love his wife as he loved his angel, he did not desire her as passionately, but he was beginning to find the thought of being away from her deuced uncomfortable.
There were only a few weeks of the Season left, and Brampton did not want to cut it short, for Charlotte's sake. On the other hand, some of the business he had to attend to would not wait. Brampton hit on the happy solution of organizing a house party at Brampton Court, so that his sister-in-law could have all the social activities that she could possibly want.
He summoned his wife to the library after breakfast and put the suggestion to her.
"Well, what do you think, my dear?" he asked, leaning back in the chair behind his desk and steepling his fingers as he watched her sitting quiet and straight-backed in the chair across from his. "Will you be bored in the country? Will Charlotte be disappointed to miss the vast whirl of balls and breakfasts and such?"
"I cannot speak for Charlotte, Richard," she answered earnestly, "but I should like it of all things. It is turning so hot and dusty in the city now. It will be perfectly splendid to be back at Brampton Court with its lawns and trees. And the lake," she added. She gazed eagerly across the desk at him so that he sat dazed by the life that had welled up in her.
"Do you prefer the country to the city?" he asked with curiosity.
"Yes, indeed I do, Richard," she replied. "But of course," she added, suddenly aware of her own enthusiasm and covering it for fear he would think her childish, "I am happy to be wherever you wish to be."
"Now that we have Charlotte launched," he said, gazing at her so intently that she lowered her eyes to the hands clasped in her lap, "we shall be able to spend more time at home. My father always preferred to live there, and live there we did until his death when I was sixteen. It is a good place for children."
Margaret tried to stop herself from blushing as her hands clasped together more tightly. She wondered if her husband's absence from her room since the night of Vauxhall had solely to do with what had happened that night or if he had been counting weeks and had assumed this was the time when he could not touch her. But nothing had happened in its regular cycle, and she had been living from hour to hour in painful hope.
Brampton broke into her thoughts. "Do you think we can arrange a house party at such short notice?"
"If we begin today, yes," she answered calmly. "How many guests did you have in mind, Richard?"
"About twelve?"
"And whom do you wish to invite?"
"Mother and Charles, certainly. Northcott will come, though I am sure he will stay at his own home, since it is only three miles away. Lucy and Henry have been angling for an invitation this twelvemonth or more. You may choose the others, my dear. May I suggest choosing young people who will be congenial to Charlotte?"
And that was almost the full extent of the plans that Brampton made himself. It was Margaret who, for the next week, worked almost nonstop writing invitations, sending notice of their arrival to Brampton Court, deciding what possessions were to be packed and taken and which staff members were to accompany the family, and trying to ensure that Charlotte still had a full social life.