Page 18 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
But what did all of this mean? She didn’t know. She only knew she had to tellGryff.
And that thought made her heart pound for a completely differentreason.
“Isn’t it exciting, Tam?” Rose asked. “Mr. Rowancourt travels with his own peregrine falcon. I saw it when he arrived last evening. I swear, it is the largest bird I’ve ever seen—and certainly the largest I’ve ever beencloseto.”
“Falconry is somewhat of a lost art,” their visitor said. “But I am happy to demonstrate when I travel, and have found some new recruits for the oldsport.”
“He’s going to show us this afternoon,” Rose said with enthusiasm. “Have you finished, sir? Might we go out now before the rain startsagain?”
“Rose!” her mother admonished. “Calm yourself. You will convince Mr. Rowancourt you don’t know how tobehave.”
“No, indeed, ma’am. I am always happy to invite excitement about my beloved Piran. He is a very worthy bird.” He set down his tea cup and stood. “Come, I am more than willing to show him off.” His tone became sly. “And there is always suchinterestingquarry in this part of the country. We will do our best to entertainyouall.”
Tamsyn stood along with everyone else, but she drew her mother aside. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I think I will go up to my room. I’m feeling tired and I’d rather not turn missish at the sport. And I’d rather miss the hawking thandinner.”
Her mother sighed. “If you must, but you are right, it would be best to come to dinner. I suppose you aren’t sleeping well, either?” She shook her head. “I vow, if I get my hands on whoever is pounding upon the harpsichordsolate. . . “
“Yes,Mama.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Is it the thought of the hunt? When I was a girl I would never have let that stop me.” She heaved a sigh. “Oh, very well. If you see Marjorie, send her out. She’s not the sort to let a little blood keep her from pursuit of agentleman.”
“Yes,Mama.”
She watched her mother trail after the rest, then ran back to her room. Who or what was that man? Rowancourt was the same name Gryff had used. Was he back here trying to get that patch of Lancarrow land onceagain?
She had to get word to Gryff. But how? She couldn’t charge over there, her parents would have twin fits. A message then? Perhaps Mr. Drake would help her. She took up her shawl again and set out. She was hurrying down the main stairwell, heading for the first floor when she heard barking outside. The main door opened—and in strode Gryff, a muddy poodle inhisarms.
Her heart, which had been beating nearly double time all afternoon, gave a lurch. He looked like a knight of old, his silhouette so broad and strong as he came through the arched doorway, his hair loose and flowing free. For the first time in her life, her knees literallygrewweak.
“Gryff! Thank heavens youarehere!”
Maids and a footman converged on them, drawn by the dog’snoise.
“I understand this might belong here?” Gryff put the dog down and it proceeded to run in noisy circles around thefoyer.
She drew a deep breath and commanded her dancing innards to behave. “Yes. This must be Oscar.” She shot an imploring look at one of the maids. “Will you be sure that he gets back to hismistress?”
The maid called the dog to order and he followed her willingly, thank goodness. They hadn’t gone far when she saw Lord St. Giles intercept the girl. The poodle looked happy enough to see him, so she turned back to mattersathand.
“And will you fetch my cloak?” she asked the footman. Tamsyn took Gryff’s arm. “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Cardew. Why don’t we step outside and I’ll help you brush the mud off ofyourcoat?”
