Anne Barbour (15 page)

Regina’s eyes widened in disbelief, then quickly became thoughtful.

“Horace Pelham. Yes, I believe I have heard his name. He’s a mill owner, is he not? From Leeds or Manchester or one of those places.”

“He was born in Manchester. He owns several mills, but he has his fingers in many other pies. Foundries and other manufacturing, shipping, and investments in a variety of extremely profitable industries.”

“And your friend is his son?” The words were spoken in some wonderment.

“His only son. And heir.”

“But why did he spin me that faradiddle about his being a farmer?” Regina asked in some indignation.

“Possibly because you were so anxious to believe the worst of him. Did you not think it odd,” he continued, his eyes still laughing at her, “that a son of the soil would appear dressed in the first stare of fashion?”

“Y-yes, but I thought he must have found a wealthy patron, or—or spent his entire army severance pay on his back.”

“And did you think he also purchased his Eton-educated speech?”

Regina chose to ignore that thrust. “Well!” was her only response.

David inclined his head. “Indeed,” he said with an ironic smile, but he spoke to the empty air, for his stepmother had already swept into the corridor.

David turned back into his study, but instead of seating himself again at his desk, he moved on impulse to the double doors at the other end of the room that gave out onto a broad terrace. Opening them, he breathed in the warm breeze that ruffled his hair, and turned his face to the sun. Lord, he’d been indoors for a week! He felt like a bear emerging from a winter’s enforced sleep.

He strolled onto the lawn from the terrace, noting its unkempt condition, and turned to survey the manor house behind him. The whiteness of the Bath stone was almost blinding in the early afternoon sunlight, and David gazed appreciatively at the classic lines of the building. That was one thing, at least, he needn’t worry about. It had originally been built in an Elizabethan square, and subsequent additions had been well conceived and executed. The structure remained sound. The roof, he sighed, was something else again. And the interior—well, there wasn’t a room that did not need new plaster on the walls and new hangings, carpeting and lighting fixtures. The chimneys were on the verge of collapse, and the cellars were a disaster. He shook his head. He wouldn’t think about that now. The list of projects on his desk was already long enough. The needs of the estate must be met first, time then to consider the manor house.

He rounded a shaggy hedge, and caught a flash of color at the other end of the formal garden he had just entered. The next moment, Kate appeared in full view, a basket of roses over one arm. David hesitated a moment, ready to turn to the house. Then, squaring his shoulders, he flung up an arm in greeting.

From the other end of the garden, Kate, too, knew an urge to flee. How could she face David after last night’s encounter? On the other hand, she could not avoid him forever—nor did she want to. There was, after all, that quiet conversation she had promised herself. She raised her own hand and continued on her path toward him..

Neither spoke until they were a few feet from one another, close enough for Kate to note the wary expression on David’s face. Their good afternoons said, an awkward silence fell between them, expanding to envelope them like the spell of a malicious fairy.

“About last night...” Kate began tentatively.

“I’m sorry you were disturbed,” David interrupted, his dark brows drawn together. “I’m afraid I—dream fairly frequently. Curle is usually nearby, but he has not yet made the move from his old quarters to the ones adjacent to Fa—my chambers. He will do so today. I appreciate your—the concern you displayed last night, however inappropriate, but as you can see, your intervention will be unnecessary from now on.”

All this was uttered in a tone of such aloof disapproval that Kate could feel her cheeks begin to burn. She
had
shown herself to be a wanton! What must he think of her? She struggled to maintain her composure. Her feelings, she reminded herself, were not important right now.

“But what causes your dreams, David?” she asked. “Have you ever tried to ...”

“I know what causes the dreams, and I do not wish to discuss the matter.”

His eyes glittered darkly against the sudden pallor of his cheeks, and it seemed to Kate that he had closed himself against her with a finality that was as irrevocable as it was hurtful.

“Then there remains no more to be said,” she replied in as calm a voice as she could muster, determined that he would not perceive her dismay.

She turned to leave, but David, ashamed at his abruptness, laid his hand on her arm.

“How goes the digging?” he asked.

Her expression lightened. “I was just going indoors to change into my working garb. Would you like to come to the villa with me?”

“No, I have promised the rest of the day to Pettigrew. We’re going to ride out over the estate on an inspection tour. Lucius is going to accompany us, and I think, Crawford as well.” He hesitated, then smiled uncertainly. “Would you like to come, too?”

It was not long before the little group set out from the stable yard in high good humor. Crawford appeared to be on his best behavior and kept the company entertained with bits of gossip about the inhabitants of the estates surrounding Westerly. Lucius then took over, relating anecdotes from his and David’s tour in Spain. As they rode under the July sun, a soaring happiness suddenly took possession of Kate. Westerly belonged to David now! The land he loved so was his to possess and to cherish for the rest of his life. She tried to ignore the shadow cast on her joy by the knowledge that she, herself, would eventually be obliged to leave Westerly. She was not, after all, a member of David’s immediate family, and when she came into her inheritance she would be off to Bath, or maybe even London, to set up her own establishment. That she might marry did not occur to her.

As though these disquieting thoughts were contagious, a certain grayness began to settle over the entire group. John Pettigrew led his new master over ill-tended fields and through unkempt woodlands. Tenants flocked from houses badly in need of repair, eager to catch a glimpse of the young lord. David spoke with them and tried to address their concerns, but he felt like a charlatan promising miracles to children.

As the party moved farther afield, the signs of neglect and mismanagement increased, and David’s countenance, too, seemed to acquire an ashen hue.

Some hours later, after much too long in the saddle, David’s wound had become once again a throbbing entity and he clenched his teeth against the pain.

Watching him, Kate’s heart sank, and when they finally clattered wearily back onto the cobblestones of the stable yard, she instinctively moved to his side.

“It’s bad, but it’s fixable,” she whispered.

“Oh, without a doubt,” David agreed in a sardonic tone. “If one had the gold of Ind at hand, all could be set to rights in a twinkling.”

“It’s fixable,” Kate repeated. “Even without the gold of whatever. It will take attention and care and a severe retrenching, but you can make it work, David. I know you can.”

David gazed into the clear eyes, shining with faith and the love of a friendship too strong for words, and knew a moment of terrible grief. Out of sheer cowardice, he had rebuffed her effort to talk to him about what had happened in Spain, but he could not postpone the telling for much longer. He dreaded the soon-approaching moment when the glowing affection in her gaze would turn to contempt, the warmth of her smile to chill disdain. The appalling thought skittered through his mind that, having found the star in the darkness that was Kate, how was he going to find his way again without her?

A young groom approached to assist David out of the saddle, only to be shouldered out of the way by Josiah Moody.

“Careful now, Mr. Da—me lord, that is.”

With a gentleness and dexterity surprising in one of his rugged appearance, Moody bore David’s weight as he eased himself from his horse’s back. The young man straightened and turned to thank the head groom, but his attention was suddenly caught by a small group rounding the far end of the stables.

At its head strode Lawrence, looking back over his shoulder to issue a stream of instructions to the three men following him, one of which led a showy gray hack.

David stiffened and moved awkwardly to intercept his half brother. Lucius, observing the sudden tension in David’s attitude, hurried to walk by his side. Kate dismounted hastily and ran after them, with Crawford bringing up the rear.

Upon catching sight of David, Lawrence halted abruptly and made as though to turn back. Then, with a defensive shrug of his shoulders, he continued on the path which brought him directly in front of David.

“H’lo, brother,” he drawled, a belligerent spark in his eye.

David merely nodded. He looked past Lawrence at the gray, then back again. “Am I right in assuming that this is the animal we were discussing last night?” he asked tightly.

“Yes.” Lawrence’s voice was casual, but Kate could sense his uneasiness. “Shelford’s man just delivered him.”

“And why did he do that, Lawrence? Surely you told him that you were no longer interested.”

The younger man’s face reddened.

“No, I didn’t,” he said pugnaciously. “Good God, David, I told you—I gave him to believe we had a deal!”

“And I told you to tell him there was no deal. Now, you will have to put Shelford’s man to the trouble of taking the horse back.”

“B-but, I can’t do that.” Lawrence’s pale eyes went wide. “We shook hands on it last night. I promised him he should have his money by the end of the week.”

“Last night!” David’s voice was a harsh rasp. “You said nothing of this in our discussion this morning.”

“Knew you’d cut up stiff,” Lawrence muttered sullenly, dropping his eyes to where clods of mud bespattered his glossy top boots.

For a moment, David said nothing, but eyed the younger man assessingly. When he spoke, his voice had lost none of its anger.

“Yes, Lawrence, I am going to cut up very stiff. You have forced my hand, and while I will pay the two hundred guineas, I will not tolerate such behavior in the future. The money will be subtracted from your next quarterly allowance, as will any other expenses you incur between now and then.”

Lawrence’s head jerked up to stare at his half brother in outraged astonishment.

“That’s three months from now! Do you expect me to live like a hermit until then?”

“You may become an anchorite for all I care, but you will not add to our already staggering financial burden.”

He pivoted on his good leg and prepared to limp away, but Lawrence sprang at him, clutching at his sleeve. The move caught David off balance, and he struggled to right himself as Lawrence tightened his grip and began shaking the arm he held.

“You can’t treat me this way, David! You may have choused me out of my inheritance, but you can’t make me live like a veritable pauper.”

“Choused you out of your inheritance?” David whitened at the words and flung Lawrence’s arm from his sleeve.

Ready tears had sprung to Lawrence’s eyes, and his own face had become as flushed as David’s was pale.

“If you hadn’t come back—sucking up to Father like you always did—I’d be the Earl of Falworth now, not you. It isn’t fair!” he gulped, echoing the phrase he had hurled at the walls of Westerly many times over the past days.

At this, David’s rage suddenly evaporated, to be replaced by an appalling urge to burst out laughing. How could he have allowed his temper to have been roused by this spoiled infant?

His expressive eyes betrayed his thoughts, and Lawrence, uttering an inarticulate howl of rage, lunged at him. In an instant, Lucius had interposed himself between them, and Crawford moved quickly to grip his brother’s shoulder.

Their efforts proved unnecessary, as Lawrence halted abruptly, his contorted features suddenly curving into an ugly sneer.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he grated, “I shan’t assault our cherished lordship. I never hit cripples.”

David went rigid, and the expression on his face made Kate want to cry out. She knew an urge to fly at Lawrence, fingers curved into rakes, but Lucius was before her. In a surprisingly swift motion, his fist connected with Lawrence’s nose, and the next moment, the young man lay flung on the stable yard cobblestones, blood streaming from between the fingers he pressed to the offended protuberance.

Kate’s attention was wholly taken with David, who remained frozen where he stood, despair and humiliation written in every line in his cheeks and in the hopeless slump of his shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius turn toward him. Moody, too, had swung about to give him assistance.

No! she thought wildly. He must have time to gather his emotions back into their tight little ball. He must not have to bear their sympathy. She whirled around and dropped to her knees beside Lawrence, who still lay sobbing.

“He is bleeding!” she cried. “How could you, Lucius? Give me your handkerchief at once.” She issued swift orders to Pettigrew and Crawford to assist Lawrence to his feet, and sped Moody on his way with the gray, who was prancing agitatedly at all the commotion.

It was some moments before Lawrence was brought to his feet, still lamenting and mopping ostentatiously at his face with Lucius’s handkerchief, Kate darted a glance at David, and was relieved to see that he had regained his composure and stood watching the proceedings with aloof disinterest.

Lawrence was given into the care of a footman who had come running from the house, and after hurling one or two largely unintelligible threats at David, was led into the house.

“My Lord Falworth,” said Lucius in an awful tone. “I am likely to do serious damage to that puppy one of these days.”

“But, my dear fellow,” replied David plaintively, “he is my heir, after all. I cannot have you bloodying up my relatives.”

“Umph!” was Lucius’s only response as the group returned to the house.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Lawrence took to his room and was served dinner there, and Regina, too, chose to absent herself from the table. Thus, the conversation was considerably lighter and more convivial than it might have been. Afterward, a lively game of whist took place in the drawing room, and such was David’s good humored participation that Kate could almost believe the ugly incident in the stable yard had not taken place. She noted, however, that David’s sociable smiles never quite reached his eyes.