Page 67 of The Rum and The Fox

The morning dress was of fine brocade muslin in a spring-like shade of pale green, with French beading and fine lace at the shoulders. Molly handed her a heavy silk shawl, for although the day had dawned fine and warm, there was still a chill to the air that reminded the unprepared that summer was still some weeks away.

“Thank you, Molly,” Keziah said, reaching out a hand to her maid. She squeezed her fingers and leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. “For everything.”

Molly beamed at her and shook her head. “I’m so happy for you, miss … I mean, your grace.”

Keziah rolled her eyes, try as she might Molly would keep things proper between them.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, her voice firm as Molly blushed a little.

“It was worth it, all of it, for this,” Molly said, looking around at the opulence of the room with wide eyes. “And just think, in two days we’ll be at Chartley.” The girl clasped her hands together and sighed. “Oh, I can’t wait, an’ that’s the truth. I’m so excited I could burst, and to be in the country again …oh, it will be wonderful.”

Keziah nodded, only too willing to agree with her. Leaving an obviously contented Molly to her tasks, she left the room, walking downstairs to find Ash waiting for her.

“Don’t you look a picture,” he said, his tone approving as she walked in the room.

“Well, I should think you would approve, as you bought the outfit,” she said, sounding a trifle tart, but only as she loved to tease him about his addiction to fashion.

“Now, now, love,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “We both agreed that my taste is by far superior to yours.”

“We never did,” Keziah objected, taking his proffered arm as he escorted her towards the garden. “You just turned your nose up every time I said I liked something.”

“Yes, but darling, that puce gown …” He tutted and shook his head, looking revolted and somewhat scandalised. “I do have a reputation to think of, after all.”

Keziah snorted and looked at him in astonishment. “A reputation? Now you’re worried about your reputation? After being the headline in the scandal rags for the past weeks, and probably for months to come?”

“Oh well,” Ash said, waving a nonchalant hand. “That was only murder, this is fashion.”

“You absurd creature,” Keziah chortled as they walked into the sun.

There was no denying he knew what he was talking about, though. He looked ridiculously handsome this morning. The sun burnished his dark hair like mahogany and the pale gold embroidered waistcoat and the perfectly cut coat - a deep blue, fitted to perfection, showing off a very fine figure, and shoulders that she now knew were broad and strong with no hint of padding. The fitted trousers likewise showed a shapely leg, and she found herself glowing with a sense of pride and a quite startling rush of desire. She smiled to herself as she walked beside him. He was quite right, of course, she was more than happy to leave such decisions of a sartorial nature to his discretion, having little patience for such things herself and having accepted long since that his judgement in such matters was second to none.

“Grandmother,” Ash said, greeting the dowager, who had her head together with the gardener. Tobias Mortimer looked as burnished gold and handsome as ever, nodding in an informal manner to Ash and to her in turn, which she found a little disconcerting.

“Well, then, Maggie, you tell me what wants doin’ and I’ll see to it.” He doffed his cap and grinned at the dowager, an expression which Keziah was rather startled to see returned to him from Lady Margaret.

“You allow that fellow a deal too much liberty,” Ash said, obviously as scandalised as Keziah that the dowager should allow him to use a nickname for her, let alone anything less than your grace.

Lady Margaret merely chuckled, however. “Oh, he’s known me since he was a very naughty little boy, he knows when he can get away with it and when he can’t. Knows I can’t do without him, either, fellow is indispensable,” she added with a rather enigmatic smile at her lips.

Ash frowned nonetheless, watching the man stride away with a troubled air.

“He’s a good fellow,” she said, sounding impatient at his obvious concern. “I’d trust him with my life and the family silver, and so should you, after all these years. He fought for king and country, you know, the best shot in the 95th Rifle Brigade in his time,” she mused, her cool gaze lingering on the man’s retreating figure as Ash’s frown deepened and Keziah felt her eyes widen with sudden and startling clarity.

“Oh, do stop fretting, Ash,” the dowager replied, tutting at her grandson with impatience. “He’s always known where the bodies were buried, I see no reason to doubt his loyalty now.”

Ash gaped at her, his eyes wide with shock as Lady Margaret laughed with delight.

“Merely a figure of speech, my boy, don’t be foolish. Now, do run along,” she said, waving an impatient hand at him. “I have a notion for a new parterre and I can’t concentrate on the design with you looming over me.”

Keziah drew Ash away as the dowager sent her an amused and rather knowing look. Keziah swallowed and decided that she really did not want to know any more than she did, but that she ought to keep on the old woman’s good side if she knew what was good for her.

She glanced up at Ash, biting back a smile at his indignation at being so summarily dismissed, as he’d won a victory and not realised it.

“She called you Ash,” she whispered, as they made their way further down the garden, the sun warm on their backs.

He nodded, a little surprise in his expression, though he still looked troubled. “So she did,” he murmured, turning his head and pausing to look over to where the gardener had now settled to his work, over in the rose garden.

“Keziah,” he said, his voice troubled as his frown deepened somewhat. “You … you don’t think …”

“I think, my dearest husband,” Keziah said, tugging at his arm and moving him further down the path. “That this is one occasion, where we ought not think …not at all.”