A Madness in Spring (3 page)

“Mr. Sturridge?” Belinda’s head came up from what she was jotting in her notebook. “He said he liked your hat?”

“Yes,” Georgie replied sweetly. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Belinda mumbled, shaking her head. “I should have said before that Mr. Sturridge has no taste when it comes to hats, but yours was very lovely.” She fidgeted with her skirt. And while Georgie was not long acquainted with Belinda, she would guess that Belinda was not one to fidget. “Perhaps he’s learned a thing or two about fashion up in Scotland.”

Then Belinda did something strange. Her hand, which once was fidgeting, went up to her blonde locks, smoothing them. As if adjusting a bonnet that she was then surprised to not find on her head.

Georgie sent a look to Francesca, who was wide-eyed and silent, watching Belinda.

“Scotland?” Georgie asked, all innocence.

“Yes, where he lives. Well, nearly. He inherited his mother’s estate on the border and is supposed to be up there setting it to rights. Yet he’s down here, aggravating me.”

“…and meeting his new nephew,” Francesca reminded gently, once she found her voice.

“Yes. Of course. But let’s have no more talk of Adam Sturridge and consign him back to Scotland where he should be,” Belinda said, shaking out her shoulders. “Now that the cornucopia is sorted, perhaps we should tackle the issue of the livestock stalls?”

As Belinda launched into a detailed explanation of why the vicar and his trampling last year were the cause of this year’s current problem, Georgie shared a look with Francesca. Lady Sturridge’s eyes were positively shining with newly discovered glee.

Matchmaker
and
mischief-maker. And very pleased to be both.

“W
hat a magnificent day,” Adam said, lazily stretching his arm overhead. The sky above was a robin’s egg blue, the grass under his back the sharpest new green. For the first time in months, it seemed as if Mother Nature was not of a mercurial mindset, and the good weather would hold.

It was days like this that reminded him of growing up – lazy, do-nothing days where all one needed was a few friends and a fishing pole to completely remove the idea of lessons and responsibilities from one’s mind.

The friends and the fishing pole were in place, as he was lying on the bank of the trout stream, John and Bertram beside him.

“It’s almost too nice a day to waste fishing,” John said.

“I think you mean too nice a day to
not
waste fishing,” Adam replied, and caught Bertram smiling in approval.

“I have tenants to see to – now that the thaw has finally come, we have fields to dredge and seed to plant.”

“And fish to catch,” Adam responded reasonably. “Days like this need to be celebrated, not worked. Mr. Gage, back me, would you?”

“I cannot say. Work in London is rarely as dependent on the weather as it is in the country. But I admit, enjoying the first nice day perhaps makes the less nice ones more bearable.”

John inhaled deeply, and recast his line. John may feel guilt about not working for one day, but at least he had the sense to not let it stop him from taking a break. Lately, his brother had been so terribly focused on making certain the estate was well managed, under control. And Adam knew why of course. Some might think it was the baby – wanting to make sure everything was perfect for little Johnny’s sake. Some might think that in the wake of their father’s passing a few years ago, he’d begun to feel the weight of the title. But Adam knew it was because of what he himself had found in Scotland.

Or rather, on the border of Scotland.

Upon his father’s death, John had inherited the title and the family seat in Hemshawe, but Adam had inherited his own estate in Northumberland, within spitting distance of the border. It came as quite a surprise. It had belonged to his uncle, but he died without issue, and so passed to Adam’s mother. Since she’d been gone for some years, it had then passed into the care of his father. By the time it had gotten to Adam, it was nearly forgotten that it had been in the family at all – except by the attorneys who drew up their parents’ wills.

Yes, it came as a surprise, but a good one. Adam had been a bit at odd ends. He’d gone to university, had served in the Army. He vaguely considered studying the law, but never had any true love of it. Then there he was, being handed an estate. A future.

A future that no one had bothered to check on in a decade.

When he first got to Northumberland, he thought it was the best practical joke anyone had ever played. The land hadn’t been tilled in ages. The house – more a castle, really – was crumbling. And the sheep had gone wild.

He’d found the land manager drunk in a pub, where he had apparently been living for some time. Not on the property overseeing things. Just sending in reports that were never read and collecting his pay.

Adam could hardly blame the man. He might have been the world’s worst land manager, but as he’d had the world’s worst owners up until now, he was merely following suit. Still those habits would prove hard to change so the man was let go from his post, as Adam began the rigorous two-year battle to bring his new home into sustainability.

He’d found a new land manager. He’d found a good steward. He’d learned all he could about sheep, and how to bring them back to heel if they’ve gone wild. He’d had to apply to John for funds to help repair the tenant’s cottages, and had finally been able to pay him back, with their latest shearing.

It had been hard work – the hardest Adam had ever done in his life. But it was good work.

It had also been lonely work.

He didn’t know a soul in Northumberland. He’d met a few recently, but as he rarely left his estate, anything approaching a social engagement was exceedingly rare. Even having just one of his friends up there – hell, even just one person he
knew
– would change everything.

It was also damnably cold.

Which was why, when John invited him down for Christmas to meet the new baby, Adam jumped at the chance. His new land manager and steward had proved very trustworthy. And the sheep were happily eating their feed and growing their wool. He could visit family for a month. Or two.

Although now that he was well into his third month, he was really going to have to consider heading back soon – likely within the next few days. There were things to do.

But not today. Not on a rare, gorgeous early spring day with fish that needed catching.

“Although, they don’t seem to be biting,” Bertram said.

“Yes, I fear I came back from London to sleeping fish,” John grumbled.

“How is it that you have your own trout stream and you’ve never learned the point of fishing?” Adam cried, pulling himself up to seated and checking on his own line. Nothing.

“I thought the point was to catch fish. To eat.”

“You’ve positively become a killjoy, John. And I refuse to allow any joy-killing on the last few days of my tenure here.”

“Then you best not turn around,” John said, and of course, Adam had to swivel around.

Sturridge Manor stood in the distance, and at that moment, three people were emerging out onto the back lawn. Three people in dresses. That would imply it was his sister-in-law Francesca, Miss Gage by her height, and…

“Oh, hell,” Adam grumbled.

“What?” Bertram, too, turned in his seat. Following Adam’s gaze he asked, “Miss Leonard? What about her?”

“Nothing,” John offered. “She and Adam tend to be at odds.”

“Why?” Bertram asked. “She seemed like a very amiable young lady to me.”

“Yes,” Adam replied. “To you.”

“Don’t mind him,” John offered. “It has to do with a long ago bowls game. One where Adam was soundly beaten and proved a bad sport about it.”

“I was twelve,” Adam said. “And I made my apologies and offered to play cards with her after. I was refused.”

“Sounds like you still are twelve,” Bertram said under his breath, and John guffawed.

Adam just rolled his eyes. If he was still twelve, he would have stalked off with anger, but as an adult he could easily recognize that he’d been an impulsive twelve-year-old, appalled to have lost to girl of nine who had walked up to them and declared herself good. He remembered thinking she was a pretty, sad little thing, too – until she started playing, that is.

But over time, what should have faded away as a childish spat had just compounded. Every time he saw her after that, she would always find something wrong with him. When he came home during school holidays, or before he headed out to the continent in his red coat. Or when he’d first gone up to not-Scotland.

Granted, at some point he perhaps began needling Belinda, to see how far he could push her exasperation. So far, he had reached no limit.

And to be honest, it was getting a bit exhausting. But it was their way.

Let’s see… he was wearing his trousers rolled up. God knows she’d mock him for that. If they were further away he might roll them down, just to avoid an argument in mixed company, but then he decided there was something delightful about watching Belinda have to hold her tongue in front of others.

“Hello, darling!” Francesca called out, and John rose to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Have you caught anything?”

“Not a bite,” John replied, then turned to the others. “Miss Gage, Miss Leonard. Lovely to see you.”

“Not too cold, Georgie?” Bertram asked.

“I have two shawls on,” Miss Gage replied with a patient smile. “Miss Leonard gave me hers and it is quite warm.”

“Thank you Miss Leonard,” Bertram smiled, turning to Belinda, who graced him with a smile in return. Funny, Adam had no idea she
could
smile. He hadn’t seen it in… ever. “I fear my sister is always a little too eager to cast off her illness, even before it’s willing to go.”

“One can never be too careful – especially in the spring. The weather can be so changeable. We want it to warm up so desperately we throw aside caution.”

Her eyes flicked to Adam’s trousers – or rather to his bared calves. An eyebrow went up.
There it is
, he thought with a little thrill of satisfaction. But just as quickly as he had gained her attention, she swung it away again, as Miss Gage made an announcement.

“I’ve promised Bertram that all the fires will remain high at the Friar’s House, even during the party.”

“Party?” John asked, taking the bait.

“Yes, dearest,” Francesca answered. “The Gages have decided to hold a dinner party in a fortnight, to say thank you to the neighborhood for such a warm welcome.”

“We have?” Bertram asked.

“It will be just the thing!” Georgie beamed. “And don’t worry, I won’t be lifting a finger – Miss Leonard will be helping to organize it all.”

“We cannot ask Miss Leonard to –”

“It is no difficulty, Mr. Gage,” Belinda said. “I dearly love to organize.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Adam couldn’t stop himself from saying. But Belinda – and everyone else – continued on as if they hadn’t heard him.

“And I’ve always wanted to explore the Friar’s House. We used to hear stories from the owners about how it has haunted secret passages.”

“Haunted secret passages?” Bertram asked. “That information, I admit, was not disclosed to us.”

“Well, Belinda can tell you all about it on the way in for luncheon,” Miss Gage said. And before Adam knew what was happening, they were abandoning their fishing poles and heading back up to the house. Francesca took John’s arm, telling him how little Johnny was waiting for them after his nap, and his recent coos and smiles. Bertram had Belinda on one arm, and made to take Miss Gage’s with his other, but before he could she had moved to Adam’s side. A bright smile met her brother’s surprised blink, but he simply turned and began to lead Miss Leonard inside.

“Give them a moment,” Georgie whispered to Adam. “I want to give them some space.”

“Afraid of ghost stories, Miss Gage?” Adam asked jovially. “I assure you the Friar’s House is not really haunted.”

“No, of course not,” she said. “Don’t you think they look well together?”

“Who?”

She nodded ahead of them. Adam’s brow came down. “Well they are… of a height?” Belinda was a tall female, and only a few inches shorter than her companion.

“I think they are suited in more ways than height,” Georgie replied.

“Miss Leonard – Belinda. And your brother?” Adam was certain he could not be hearing her correctly. “You cannot be serious.”

“Whyever not?” Georgie replied. “I assure you, my brother is quite eligible. As is Miss Leonard.”

“I have no doubt he is. And… she is too, I suppose. But…”

“But what?”

But he’d never even thought of Belinda ever being suited for anyone. The idea of her married – it was just so strange. She would drive the poor man crazy with her constant need to be right and fix everything to her liking. He’d been firmly convinced for some time that she would live and die an old maid.

“My brother needs a woman in his life,” Georgie said, seeing his confusion. “And as for Miss Leonard… well, surely you’ve noticed the admiring glances he’s sent her.”

“He has?” Adam asked. For a moment, he felt like he’d lost his bearings, and was not at the home where he’d grown up. This entire thing was terribly unfamiliar.

Georgie’s cheeks colored very suddenly. “I’ve said too much. Let us speak of blander things. Will you be attending our party at the Friar’s House, Mr. Sturridge. Please do say you’ll come.”

Adam’s mind swung violently from his musings to Georgie’s question. The party was in a fortnight. He had been planning on heading back to his own estate before the end of this week. He’d already begun packing, and composed the letters to his steward and land manager to let them know of his arrival.

But he hadn’t posted them yet.

His eyes flicked ahead of them, to where Bertram was laughing at something Belinda had said. And she was laughing too.

And something strange lanced through him. Not unlike when his horse took a jump Adam was not prepared for.

Maybe he should stay a little while longer. Just until he was sure that the good weather was going to hold. To make his journey easier, of course.