Page 37 of How to Cross a Marquess (The Way to a Lord's Heart 3)

“I’ve got a smooth snake,” shouted her nephew. He held up the creature in question, gripping it behind the head.

“Aren’t all snakes smooth?” asked Roger.

“I have never had the least desire to find out,” she replied.

The boys trotted toward them. “You hardly ever find them so far north,” John said. “This one must be an adventurer!” He held it out.

Fenella suppressed a flinch and examined the brown snake. A double row of small, rather indistinct dark spots ran down its back toward the tail. Four parallel, shadowy stripes ornamented its back and flanks. The snake was winding around John’s arm as if to squeeze it. “Not a viper?” she asked.

“No,” John scoffed. “This isn’t poisonous. But you know what, Aunt Fenella? Smooth snakes are one of the ones that don’t lay eggs. They have live young.”

“Like a dog or cat?” asked Roger.

John winced, but nodded. “They’re very rare here. And secretive. I was dashed lucky to find it.”

Tom was watching them, not the snake, Fenella noticed. His homely face was full of friendly curiosity. No, clandestine was right off for this particular outing, she concluded. Tom didn’t seem like a gossip, but she suspected he told Lord Macklin everything he got up to. Their expedition would undoubtedly be mentioned to the earl. Probably that didn’t matter. Macklin was unlikely to care about the affairs of a stranger.

* * *

At that moment, the earl in question and Roger’s mother were sitting in the Chatton Castle garden once again. Having established their status as simply friends, they found they enjoyed a daily chat. Arthur suspected that Helena was lonely, now that she was a widow, and he understood that feeling very well. “Another splendid afternoon,” he commented. The sea rolled away to the horizon beyond the castle walls. There were wisps of streaming clouds but no threat of rain. Bees were busy in the flowers and at the hives down the garden. Sweet scents wafted through the air.

“We often have a stretch of fine weather in August,” Lady Chatton replied. Her face, shaded by a parasol, was serene.

“I suppose it’s quite a different prospect in the winter.”

She nodded. “Oh yes. We get some tremendous storms. The spray can reach all the way up the walls. And the days are very short then. The sun is down by four o’clock.”

It seemed to Arthur that Chatton must be a desolate place at that season. But he didn’t like to say so.

“The thing to do is make it cozy inside,” she added, as if answering his thought. “And find pleasant occupations. We often play…played chess.” Arthur tried to hide his surprise, but she noticed and laughed. “You don’t think me capable. Raymond didn’t either. He taught me the moves as if I was an amusing child and would soon grow bored with the game. How I cherish the memory of the first time I beat him in a match. He was dumbfounded.”

“Did he mind?” Arthur asked. Many men would.

“He was proud of me.” Helena looked rueful. “In his way. Like a man who possesses a rare curiosity due to his own cleverness. And I didn’t win often. He was very good.” Her expression grew mischievous. “Roger won’t play with me. I always beat him.”

“Perhaps we can try a match.”

“Whenever you like,” she said.

Arthur nodded. He’d noticed—in his middle age, certainly not sooner—that it wasn’t always easy to be a pretty woman, even in the luxurious ranks of the nobility. He wondered what it was really like, to be constantly underestimated even as one was deferred to. He was aware that his appearance and position often had the opposite effect, leading people to overestimate his abilities. That could be irritating, but not nearly as much as the opposite, he imagined.

“I’ll give you the first move,” said Helena.

She thought he was worried about losing, Arthur realized. “On no account. I like a fair fight.” When she laughed, he moved on to the topic he’d meant to bring up today. “I wanted to speak to you about something.” He felt it only right to tell her that he was making plans concerning her son.

She cocked her head, ready to listen.

“I’ve been doing something rather odd lately. For the last few months, that is.”

“Oh good.”

Arthur looked down at her, startled.

“I’m always glad to hear that my friends are adventurous. Are you going to become eccentric?”

He’d lost more than he’d understood when Helena Ravelstoke chose another husband, Arthur thought. Yet he’d been very happy with Celia. He had no regrets. “Perhaps I already have.”

His companion shook her head. “Still too proper.”

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