Suitors and Sabotage(28)



Ben harrumphed and then caught Imogene’s watchful expression and laughed. “Thank you, Miss Chively. I would love to draw three children’s blocks. Let me see, we have R, T, and A.” He laid them out so they formed the word rat.

“Harder than you might think. This is the beginning of perspective.” She rearranged the blocks to spell art.

“Have I jumped ahead of Hardly Harriet?”

“You have indeed.” Imogene laughed and then glanced at Emily’s speculative frown. “It’s your fault,” Imogene explained. “You introduced your sister as Hardly Harriet, remember?”

“Yes, of course. That was not the reason—never mind.” Emily shook her head at some inner thought, shrugged, and then shook her head again. “I think I will give it a try as well. Drawing, that is. As I have said before, I have no ability.… But it might prove to be amusing. Do you have enough supplies?”

“Of course.” Imogene reached back into her satchel. “Would you care to join us, too, Ernest?”

“No, no. It would be a prodigious waste of time.”

“Read to us then, old man,” Ben said in a commanding manner. “Entertain us while we work.”

Ernest offered an impish smile. The reason was apparent when he began to read.

“Lud, Ernest! Byron?” Ben rolled his eyes. “You are reading Byron?”

“Shall I continue?” Ernest asked, turning his wide-eyed, innocent look upon Imogene.

“Absolutely.” Imogene laughed again, agreeing as much to please Ernest as to irritate Ben. Though she had no idea why that thought was so appealing.

As expected, Emily’s aptitude was poor at best, and she made herself more of a distraction to Ben than a fellow student. Imogene listened to their playful banter, glanced at Ernest—who had lapsed into silence after reading only a page or two to the company—and watched the clouds roll in. At first, the layers of cumulonimbus occasionally hid the sun, but as they grew in number and the temperature dropped, Imogene knew they were in for a storm. Her suggestion that they head back to Gracebridge tout suite required little persuasion when a distant rumble echoed across the fields.

Heading down the hill proved to be more difficult than going up, as the horses were skittish. Walking beside the carriage may not have eased the nerves of the bay geldings, but it made Mr. Fowler—and, in truth, the company—more comfortable. It also delayed them somewhat, so there was now no doubt of the change in weather.

By the time they arrived back at Gracebridge, the wind had begun to bluster in earnest.

“We’ll get off at the stables, Mr. Fowler,” Imogene suggested to the coachman. “That way you can take care of the horses right away.… And I can check on Jasper.” None was surprised by her proposal, as she had mentioned a desire to see how Jasper fared at breakfast.

“If you wish, I can take your art satchel inside while you are with Jasper.” Emily glanced at Ben. “I’m sure Benjamin would not mind carrying it for me.”

Imogene was unclear as to how that meant Emily was taking charge of the drawing supplies, but she refrained from addressing the issue. She nodded and headed for the kennels. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder.

“Ernest, be a good fellow and give Emily a hand with the satchel. I, too, would like to see how Jasper is faring.” Ben’s voice became louder as he spoke, joining Imogene just as she opened the door to the smaller of the barns.

Imogene did not hear Emily grumble, but she was almost certain that she would have.

Once inside the kennels, Imogene ignored the noisy barking of the hounds, bypassing their enclosure and making her way to the back wall. However, the gate to Jasper’s kennel was open, and the St. John’s water dog was not within. Worse still, Mr. Marshal did not know where the dog might be.

With a sinking feeling, Imogene stood once again in front of the small barn, looking around. She scanned the inner yard, the active stable, and the fields beyond. She considered calling for Jasper, even though it would have been a breach of decorum, but refrained—temporarily. If Jasper had been let loose, it was likely that he would head to the old castle, her favorite haunt. Calling from the stable yard would be pointless.

And just as they walked past the edge of the stables and Imogene could see across the lawn and down the hill to the ruin, she heard a most welcome sound. A very excited bark.

“Ah, there he is,” Imogene said with no little relief.

Ben stood at her side, looking up at the sky; he nodded. “I’ll get him. You should get inside before the storm hits.” He started down the hill without waiting for an answer. “Your father expressly—”

“Forbade me to visit the old castle. Yes, I know, but this isn’t a visit.… It concerns Jasper.” Lifting her skirts to a height just shy of improper, Imogene rushed to catch up … and then passed him. Shouting his protest, Ben raced after her, and the game was on. Not surprisingly, Ben crossed the moat bridge first, though Imogene was not far behind. They stood for some minutes wheezing and trying to catch their breath, merriment in their eyes as they enjoyed the exhilaration of the vigorous exercise. Yes, that was why they continued to stare and smile at each other. No other reason. At all.

“Jasper,” Imogene called when she had the breath to do so and the will to look away. The dog continued to bark but still did not put in an appearance.

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