The Bumblebroth Read online

"And you need not fear for my greys if I do not. I think Lady Pamela will surprise you. She seems a quite capable sort of girl. And you will be driving with us during our lesson."

  "Me? Play groom to a female? You must be bosky!"

  "Gerald, may I remind you that you have just defended our mother to me. I am sure you can discover a buried snip of gallantry inside that thick skull of yours."

  Gerald looked anything but comforted. "But, why? Why would you want to submit your prime tits, which must have cost you the better part of fifteen hundred guineas, to a lady?"

  "She is not a lady yet. She is little more than a girl."

  Gerald's brows rose, and a suspicious look came into his eyes. "Not your usual fare, is she?"

  "Not at all, but she is that rare sort of girl who shows a complete mastery over her animals. I promised to teach her, and since I have pledged myself, I would like to have your company."

  "Can't handle the team yourself?"

  William replied with terrible firmness, "I must warn you, Gerald, that such disrespectful language could easily be misconstrued as an insult, which would do nothing to further your own expectations. I might be driven so far as to consider marriage as an option with which to cut you out of the succession."

  Gerald whooped. "What gammon!"

  "Indeed. I trust you will tell that to our mama."

  Not having seen each other for many weeks, the two brothers embarked on a lively discussion which included the result of the last race-meeting they had both attended. The talk became quite heated, Gerald being of the opinion that the horse he had backed, and on which he had lost thirty pounds, had been grossly mis-ridden by its jockey, while William demurred, having backed the winner.

  But by the time they pulled up at Westbury Manor and Gerald had been given the opportunity to drive William's greys, he was in high spirits once again.

  This time, on knocking, William was greeted as if expected, although he could not fail to detect the disapproval in Barlow's carriage. Recognizing that it would behoove him to make an ally of Mattie's steward rather than an enemy, he set about placating him by being on his best behaviour.

  He agreed meekly when Barlow announced that Her Grace would be down shortly and asked whether the gentlemen would not rather wait outside "to keep their horses from setting on the fret." William even managed not to grin at this rather clumsy attempt of Barlow's to mimic coaching slang.

  Before the ladies joined them, Mattie's head groom, Stocker, limped stiffly out from the stables, ostensibly for the purpose of checking out the harness, although William suspected Stocker could not forego the opportunity to see such rum goers. William had made the groom's acquaintance on his last call, and had not been surprised to find that he, too, was an octogenarian.

  "You'll be needin' a firm hand with these bits, my lord," he said, shaking his head dourly.

  "You needn't fear for your mistress, Stocker. Even if I prove to be ham-handed, my brother Gerald will bring us about."

  Gerald snorted, as well he might, for William was a noted whip. He had set a record time from London to Reading, which still had not been broken. However, Stocker gave no sign of having heard of William's well-earned reputation. He seemed to think that the entire party would be carried home on litters.

  The arrival of the ladies put an end to their idling. William presented his brother, and Gerald managed a creditable bow. Lady Pamela, though shy, seemed eager to meet a boy about whose daring exploits she had heard so much.

  William handed her into the front seat of the phaeton he had brought down for the purpose from London, while Gerald helped Mattie onto the rear bench.

  "Now, you hold on, Miss Mattie," Stocker called anxiously from the horses' heads. "If the carriage goes to rolling, you just duck down below that box."

  Amused by her groom's familiar address, William glanced over his shoulder in time to see Mattie flush. Had they all known her since her infancy then?

  He did not let himself be distracted by her appearance, although this was the first time he had seen her without a smudge on her face. She was garbed in a blue riding habit which, though dated, seemed hardly to have been worn, and this piece of evidence helped to explain Stocker's unwarranted concern.

  The blue became her, bringing out the blue of her eyes and the rose of her cheeks. So much so, in fact, that William felt an incurable urge to discover how Mattie would look in a ball gown of the same hue.

  Pamela was eager to begin, so he raised the reins and coaxed the greys down the carriage way. Gerald had taken the edge off their friskiness, but still they took a moment to settle in to their paces. Unused to the countryside, they had the tendency to shy at the scurry of every squirrel or the flutter of every pheasant.

  "Are you ready to take the ribbons, Lady Pamela?" William asked, when he thought they were ready for her.

  She nodded, so he pulled the carriage to a halt. Gerald hopped down and ran to their heads while William explained the proper way to thread the reins through her fingers.

  Watching from the back seat, Mattie strove not to appear too anxious, although the prospect of this outing had loosed butterflies in her stomach. She knew that the way to her daughter's heart would likely be through horses, and she had put herself on guard for Pammy's sake.

  Nothing would be simpler for Lord Westbury, Mattie feared, than to exercise his considerable charm while teaching Pammy how to drive. Mattie stood ready to call a halt to the outing at the first hint of flirtatious behaviour.

  As William patiently placed each of Pamela's fingers where it needed to be, Mattie could not truly fault his manner. There was nothing lover-like in his approach. He spoke to Pammy kindly, much the way His Grace had when teaching Mattie how to play whist when she had been of a similar age.

  Despite this similarity— or perhaps, because of it, Mattie could not be certain— she felt her worry increasing. A subtle difference underlay the two episodes, but a difference Lord Westbury could not help. He could not be blamed for being so handsome, for having a voice both gentle and low, or for possessing hands that were at once, both strong and elegant.

  Mattie focused on his hands as he shifted them farther down the reins to support Pamela's grip. Surely, the sight of such hands alone would attract any girl's notice. If not, then the tone of his hypnotic murmur would lure her. And if all else failed, which Mattie could not conceive of, then a look into Lord Westbury's keenly etched face would do the trick.

  Mattie saw the way the horses tossed their heads, and William's correspondingly firm grasp upon the reins. His hands seemed bigger and his shoulders even broader as he controlled them.

  Pamela was shy of him, but so eager to drive the carriage that she seemed hardly to notice his charm. William cautioned her once more as he adjusted one more loop between her fingers. He did not relinquish control entirely even when Pamela was ready, but placed his hands lightly over hers in case she should have need of him.

  He gave the word, and Gerald jumped back onto the seat beside Mattie, stretching to see in front. Unused to a light open carriage, Mattie gripped the seat, expecting a lunge at the very least. But Pamela managed to ease the horses out fairly smoothly.

  "Well done!" Gerald called. He was sitting so far forward that Mattie thought he might spill onto the two in front. "Have her tighten up on that leader, Will."

  William made the adjustment without responding. After they walked the length of the drive, he encouraged Pamela to take the team out onto the road and trot them.

  Her movement must have been too abrupt, for one of the leaders bolted. Mattie felt a sharp jerk backwards, but she recovered in time to see Pamela bringing the team back under control.

  Instead of making a grab for the reins, William had calmly instructed Pamela how to do it herself.

  "You shouldn't have had her trot them so soon, Will," Gerald grumbled. "You should have demonstrated longer than you did."

  Mattie had to agree, but she could see that Pamela was thrilled to have stopped the horses
on her own. Nothing daunted, she was eager to let them out again.

  "Let me show her first, Will." Gerald bounced on the back seat.

  "Gerald," William called patiently over his shoulder. "If you do not stop driving from the rear bench, I shall have to put you out."

  Pamela giggled, and Gerald turned a mottled colour.

  "Just trying to help," he muttered, falling back against the seat.

  "You are helping, and you shall help again," William replied, "but you might try entertaining the duchess while awaiting your turn."

  Gerald started guiltily, and Mattie hid a smile. He was an engaging boy, and she did not want to be a burden to him. Gerald had neither his brother's looks nor his Town polish, but his boyish enthusiasm pleased her.

  To put him at his ease, she said, "I would be very grateful if you would explain some of the terms you and Lord Westbury are using. I am very ignorant, you see, when it comes to driving."

  He brightened at a task he could so easily fulfill. "Certainly, Your Grace. Well, the two horses in front are called the leaders, naturally, and the two in back are known as wheelers. Each nag is guided by a set of ribbons— which is what we call the reins."

  Seeing that Mattie had followed his very basic introduction, Gerald continued, "Did you see how Will made Lady Pamela lace the ribbons through her fingers?"

  She nodded.

  "Well, it is done that way, you see, so one won't get them tangled up, and each horse may be controlled separately."

  Gerald went on, and Mattie lent him half an ear while she strained to listen to the conversation taking place between her daughter and William. She half-feared that Lord Westbury had set his brother the task of distracting her so that he could sweep Pammy off her feet when her mother was not watching. But, for the moment at least, she heard nothing to confirm her suspicions.

  William took back the reins, and immediately Gerald's attention shifted forwards.

  "Is it my turn, Will?" he asked eagerly.

  "In a moment."

  William showed Pamela how to turn the carriage in a tight spot in the road. Then, he addressed the proper way to hold the whip.

  He gave a flick to his leader's ear, and the phaeton bounded forward, just as William trapped the thong in his fist.

  To Mattie, the quick movement seemed a miracle of precision, so she was surprised when Gerald said, "What's got into you, Will? I've never seen you make such a mess of it."

  "Thank you, Gerald. If I had known that you meant to point out my faults to the ladies, I would have had second thoughts about bringing you along."

  Lord Westbury's teasing note robbed the words of their sting, and Gerald laughed. But Mattie was confused.

  "I must say," she confessed to Gerald in a low whisper, "that I failed to see that your brother did anything amiss."

  Gerald hovered anxiously over William's head as he attempted the manoeuvre again. "It's not that he did anything wrong, but I've never seen Will startle his horses so."

  Lord Westbury tried the flick of the ear again, but his horses jerked forward as if they had shied.

  "Will!" Gerald's voice was plaintive. "You shouldn't be teaching Lady Pam to do it the wrong way."

  "Then, perhaps you would like to show her yourself," William said over his shoulder. "I seem to be missing the knack today."

  Gerald eagerly agreed, and as soon as William brought the team to a halt, leapt out of the seat to go to the horses' heads. William trusted Pamela to hold the reins while the exchange of drivers was quickly effected, then came around back and climbed in beside Mattie.

  She found that William occupied considerably more of the bench than Gerald had. Whether his larger size was to blame, or something more mysterious, she could not tell, but she immediately felt his nearness in a burst of heat.

  As Gerald drove, William met her gaze, and a deprecating smile lit his eyes before it touched his lips. "I am afraid that I have just been given my conge."

  "No, not at all!" Mattie felt an absurd desire to defend him. "You taught Pammy beautifully, and I am certain she is most grateful."

  William sighed. "You are too kind, Duchess. It is always wounding to one's pride to be outshone by one's younger brother."

  "You could not be outshone." The words escaped her before she thought.

  An irrepressible grin lit up his face, and Mattie was conscious once again of a heat stealing over her. Why, oh, why, she thought, did this man make her so uncomfortable?

  "Thank you, Duchess. Or may I call you Mattie since we are neighbours, and everyone else seems to do so?"

  His request took her off guard. She was not familiar with the way such matters were decided in society these days, but His Grace's household had always been a casual one. At least, where she was concerned.

  Mattie knew her servants' familiarity must appear quite odd to a man who had been raised by Lady Westbury, so she hastened to explain. "You will think that I have a shocking lack of authority where my servants are concerned, and I must admit that I have. I was raised by His Grace after my parents died in a boating incident. You may have noticed that my servants tend to coddle me, but they all raised me, you see. They never have stopped thinking of me as a child."

  "I should think that your marriage would have made them notice you had matured, if nothing else did." William's tone was perfectly even, but the accompanying glance, which raked her figure lightly, disconcerted her.

  Flustered, and feeling her pulse quicken in response, Mattie blurted, "His Grace hardly noticed me himself, so why should they?"

  William's brows jerked together. A question hovered behind them, but he did not speak it aloud.

  "What I meant," Mattie said, talking much too quickly, she knew, "was that His Grace did not concern himself with social niceties. We married with little fanfare and went back to living the way we had always done."

  "Surely, not entirely?"

  His questions were making her uneasy. How could one explain to a man of the world the sort of life she had led? There had been one difference, of course, and that difference had led to Pamela's birth, but it had not disrupted their routine for long.

  "Not . . . entirely, no. Of course, not. But His Grace was getting along in years, as you must know, and his habits were already fixed."

  "I understood that he seldom traveled. I only saw him in London a few times, and never in the Lords."

  "No, he did not care for society. He had a tight circle of friends whom he did visit, and we had a few card parties of our own. He was quite fond of whist."

  At William's appalled expression, Mattie took herself up short.

  "You must not think that I yearned for more," she said, unsettled by his evident interest. "I found I did not care for London myself, and I had my gardening."

  "Yes." William's look became teasing. "The consuming passion we two share."

  Mattie felt her lips pulling up at the corners. It was going to be very difficult to suppress Lord Westbury's impudence, if he could not regret it himself.

  She was so engaged by their conversation, she scarcely noticed what was going on in front of her until Gerald called back to them, "I say, Will! Your Grace! See what Lady Pam can do."

  Mattie was surprised to note that an easy camaraderie had already sprung up between the two young people. Pamela was no more used to driving with gentlemen than Mattie was, but she was used to horses, and this shared interest had given her something to talk about. She and Gerald had been chattering like two cooks over a stew.

  Once Gerald had their attention, he gave Pamela the word to begin. She attempted William's trick with the whip, and managed to step up the horses' pace without making them spring.

  At Mattie's side, William gave another despairing sigh. "Bested first by my brother, and then by my pupil. This has been a very trying day."

  Mattie had to laugh. She knew he had meant to impress Pamela with his driving skill. As ignorant as she was, she knew at least that much about gentlemen. But for all his efforts, Pammy s
eemed to prefer Gerald as her teacher.

  "You should never have brought your brother along," she told William pityingly. "Though I must say, I am glad you did. He is a delightful boy, and so good with horses."

  William winced. "I can see that my reputation has suffered a blow. On a future lesson, I shall have to issue Gerald a challenge."

  "Future lesson?" The butterflies in her stomach resumed their fluttering. "Are there to be more?"

  William looked surprised. "You didn't think that Lady Pamela could learn how to drive in just one, did you? I am sorry if you did, but this is only the first of many. Even as capable as she is, she must have more if she is to be trusted with her own carriage."

  "But do ladies ever drive themselves?"

  "In London it is all the rage. She will be going to London, will she not, in the near future?"

  "Yes." Mattie nodded, trying to hide her misery at the thought. Her ignorance of ladies' driving habits was as great as it was on any other matter of style. How would she ever manage to stage Pammy's presentation ball?

  "Have I said something to distress you, Mattie?"

  She shook her head at William's kind tone. "No, of course not. I simply had not thought so far ahead."

  Realizing that this might be a good opportunity to remind him of Pammy's age, she added, "Thoughts of Pamela's London days are quite premature."

  "Are they?" William allowed his dubious tone to speak for him. "She must have begun to think of it, nevertheless."

  "I do not think so." Mattie drew herself up. It was time to recall her purpose in accompanying them. "I see no point in filling her head with matters she is too young to consider. There will be time and enough for London when she is grown."

  She turned and made a discreet sign behind Gerald's back, before confiding to William in a whisper, "You must have noticed how much the child she is. She is younger than your brother, after all."

  "But girls tend to marry so much younger than boys. You did so yourself."

  A fear for Pamela stung her like a whip to her heart. "Yes, but that was extraordinary. If I had not been His Grace's ward, I am certain I never should have married him."