Where? That was the problem. Indeed, the more she thought of it, she couldn’t imagine how he’d solve that particular difficulty at any time…unfortunately, today, she couldn’t put her mind to devising a solution—she had a fete to help stage and a small horde of guests to herd to it.
The weather had held; the day had dawned fine, free of any but the lightest clouds. The lilting breeze was just strong enough to rustle leaves and set ribbons dancing.
Breakfast was held late due to the previous night’s festivities; as soon as it was over and the guests, refreshed, reassembled, she, aided by Edward, Elizabeth, and Geoffrey, shepherded them up the shady drive and across the village street.
For decades, the fete had been held in the meadow behind the church; a good-sized clearing, it was bound at the back and to the right by the forest, with a secondary clearing to the left, perfect for leaving horses and gigs under Muriel’s stableman’s watchful eye. Stalls set in a large circle displayed jams, cakes, and homemade wines amid a host of other local produce. There were wood carvings and paintings, horse-shoes and ornamental brasses; the latter proved popular among the foreign visitors, as did Miss Trice’s watercolors.
The offerings of the Ladies’ Association—doilies, crocheted scarves, beribboned handkerchief sachets, embroidered tray cloths, anti-macassars, and more—covered two long trestle tables. Caro stopped to chat with Mrs. Henry and Miss Ellerton, who were currently overseeing the wares.
While she talked she kept an eye on her guests, but they all seemed quite taken with this, for them uncommon, slice of English life. Lady Kleber and the general in particular seemed in their element; they’d stopped to talk with the woodcarver.
She was turning away when another large group came through from the stabling area. Michael steered the Swedish and Finnish contingents she’d billeted at the Manor into the main clearing, pausing to point out various stalls. She watched him smile and charm the Verolstadt girls, but when they went off, parasols gaily bobbing in their parents’ wake, he remained where he was.
Then he turned his head, looked straight at her, and smiled.
A warm glow filled her; he’d known she was there. Not only that, but his smile—the smile he seemed to save just for her—was quite different. Somehow more real. He started toward her; she went forward to meet him. He took her hand, deftly raised it to his lips, kissed it.
His eyes on hers reminded her, stirred memories inappropriate to indulge in while in public. She felt a blush tinge her cheeks, tried to frown. “Don’t.”
His smile deepened. “Why not?” He wound her arm in his and turned her toward the homemade wines. “You look delicious when you blush.”
Delicious. Of course he would use that word.
She retaliated by ensuring he bought two bottles of Mrs. Crabthorpe’s elderberry wine, then guided him around the stalls, loading him with produce, even making him purchase two doilies from Miss Ellerton, who blushed even more rosily than she had.
His eyes laughed at her; indeed, he bore her managing in such good vein she started to become suspicious. Then they came upon Mrs. Entwhistle, who exclaimed at his load and insisted on relieving him of it; all the packages disppeared into her capacious bag while she waved aside his protests. “It’s no difficulty at all, sir. Hardacre’s here—he’ll see me home.”
“Ah, good.” Michael’s expression eased. “Given our guests won’t be returning, I meant what I said earlier—please spend as long as you like here, all of you. I don’t expect to be back until late. After all your hard work, you deserve some fun.”
Mrs. Entwhistle beamed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll tell the others. This is one of those occasions where we can catch up with our cousins and nieces and nephews—having the time to chat without thinking of ought else is a boon. I know Carter’ll be happy to spend time with his mum.”
“If I see him, I’ll tell him, but do spread the word.”
They parted; Caro felt her instincts pricking, but she couldn’t fathom over what. Then Muriel saw them and swooped.
“Excellent! Just in time to perform the official opening.” Muriel ran her eye critically over Michael, as if expecting to find something to correct.
When she frowned, defeated, Caro hid a smile; for this setting, for his role, Michael was sartorially impeccable in a perfectly tailored riding jacket in brown-and-green tweed, his cravat snowy white, simply styled, his waistcoat an understated brown velvet, his breeches tight-fitting buckskins that disppeared into gleaming topboots. He looked the part he was there to play, the part he wished to project to this audience, that of a gentleman accustomed to moving in the highest circles, but who also was one of them, approachable, not above riding through their lanes, a man who appreciated their country pleasures as they did.
Had Muriel really thought he’d falter?
More, that if he had, that she, Caro, wouldn’t have put him right?
Linking her arm more definitely in his, she nodded to a dray drawing up before the stalls. “Is that the platform?”
Muriel looked. “Yes, indeed! Come along.”
Muriel strode ahead, calling to others to gather around. Seeing Reverend Trice, she imperiously directed him to the dray.
Michael caught Caro’s eye; the glance they shared was one of complete understanding and politely suppressed amusement.
Reaching the dray, Caro slid her arm from Michael’s and stood watching as he climbed up, assisted Reverend Trice up, then looked around, nodding and exchanging salutes with those he’d yet to chat with while they waited. Muriel came striding back; at her sharp command, numerous hands helped her up to the dray’s tray.
Regaining her balance, Muriel smoothed down her skirts. She was a large woman, taller than Caro and rather heavier; in her dark green gown she looked imposing and severe. In a ringing voice, she called the crowd to order; briefly mentioning the long history of the fete and its purpose in raising funds for the physical betterment of the church, she graciously if somewhat superiorly thanked those who had assisted in staging today’s event.
Muriel stepped back, inviting Reverend Trice to address the crowd. His tones imbued with the authority of his office, he accepted the support of t
he community and thanked all who had assisted and all who had come to share in the event in the name of the church and the Almighty.