Love Finds Lord Davingdale (2 page)

As part of their new venture, William kept
several mares for breeding, and because Westerly was so far away,
they both agreed Thomas would keep them in St. John’s Wood for
nominal rent. William paid for the oats and hay, while Thomas
worked them. They attended Tattersall’s regularly, and with his
conscientious eye and William’s money, they became known throughout
London as up and coming horse traders. William’s stables were
turning out beautiful creatures, and a handsome profit. Thomas
could not have been more pleased, as his new vocation began to take
shape. He finally felt he could be proud of his title once
more.

Riding into the village proper that morning
on his favorite gelding, Helios, Thomas could not help smiling. The
foal had come at last and she was a beauty. Black as midnight, a
tiny star emblazoned her forehead, and two white socks climbed from
her front hooves. She was a fighter, and Thomas was sure, she would
do them proud in a few more years.

Dismounting in front of the blacksmith,
Thomas went in to enquire about having Lovely re-shod before he
brought her up to Westerly. The injury she had suffered at the
hands of her last owner had healed nicely, and Thomas had worked
tirelessly the last few weeks, gaining her trust and calming her
fears. William’s cousin, the Marchioness of Emmons, wanted a small
enough creature for her daughter in the spring. Lovely would make a
nice little companion for the ten year old.

Finished with the blacksmith, Thomas strode
down the boardwalk in front of the shops. He raised his hand in
greeting to a friend across the street. Thinking he should join the
old codger for a pint when he finished his business in town, he
made the sign of a cup. Still walking, he bumped into something
soft, which landed in a heap at his feet. Looking down, a woman sat
on the ground on her backside. Good Lord, what had he done!

“Oh, do forgive me,” he said awash with
embarrassment. How could he have been so careless? “I am so
terribly sorry. Are you all right?” He held out his good hand to
help her up and was surprised her grip was so strong. “I’m afraid I
was lost in my own thoughts. Pray are you well?”

She stared at him, a small ‘o’ forming on her
lips, but said nothing. She straightened her skewed spectacles, and
righted her bonnet. He thought her particularly handsome, and liked
the way her swan-like neck curved as she turned to brush her hand
across the back of her coat.

Thomas picked up her package, which had
ripped and found its way into a puddle. “Please forgive me,” he
said as he handed it to her. “By all means allow me to pay for the
cleaning.” He bent to retrieve the contents of her reticule.
Holding the small purse against his hip with his bad arm, he
recovered her few items and shoved them in the bag.

“That is not necessary, sir,” she said
quietly as he handed her the reticule.

The look she gave him was one he hadn’t seen
recently on a woman’s face – kind regard.

“No, I must insist,” he said. “Is this where
you purchased it?” He pointed to the dressmaker’s shop.

“Yes.”

“Then please, allow me.” Thomas led her back
into the shop, explained what had transpired to the proprietor, and
asked if she could clean the item. He slipped his card from his
jacket and passed it along the counter. “Send the bill to this
address. And could you have the garment sent round to….” He looked
to the young woman at his side.

“Cummings Hall,” she said.

“Cummings Hall,” Thomas said to the little
round dressmaker and winked.

The seamstress beamed. “Of course, I shall
clean it and have it sent round this afternoon.”

“Thank you.” Davingdale took the young
woman’s elbow, and steered her out to the street once again.

“I should hardly know how to thank you, sir,”
she said. “You did not have to go to such lengths. ‘Twas an
accident after all.”

“Nonsense, it was the least I could do. Are
you sure you are well? Nothing broken, nothing sprained?” He
inspected her as he would a lame horse, and then his gaze met
hers.

“No.” She smiled. “Only my pride.”

Lord, she was a pretty thing. “May I escort
you to your next destination, perhaps?” Thomas proffered his good
arm.

“No, thank you. I am only waiting for my
cousin’s carriage. The driver is walking the old horse so not to
cramp in the weather.”

“Good man,” he said. “You mentioned Cummings
Hall. Out on the west side of St. John’s Wood?” He knew the house,
but not its inhabitant.

“Yes, I am staying with my cousin, Lady
Josephine. I have an invitation to a lovely ball the day after
tomorrow. Unfortunately, I am in sore need of a few things to wear,
which is why I’m in town today shopping.”

“And I’ve spoiled your new cape,” he said
charmed by the rosy hue that crept up her cheeks as if she had
divulged too much information.

“No, ‘tis only a smudge. It should come fine
with a simple scrub. No harm done.” She pointed to an old landaulet
driven by an old man and pulled by an equally old horse. “Ah, here
he comes.”

“Well,” Thomas said. “Do not let me detain
you any further. And again, let me apologize for smashing you to
the ground.”

She smiled. “Apology accepted, Mr. ….”

“Merrit. Thomas Merrit, at your service.” He
bowed slightly.

“Thank you again, Mr. Merrit. It was
unnecessary to have the garment cleaned, but I am grateful
nonetheless.”

The carriage pulled up, Thomas brought down
the step, and handed her in. “Have fun at your ball,” he said as he
closed the door. The carriage pulled away and he stood there
mentally kicking himself. He never asked for her name. And although
it was not proper, he did not think such an unassuming woman to
wait on etiquette to be introduced.

He stepped back in to the dressmaker’s
shop.

The woman smiled at him adoringly. “Yes, my
lord, how may I help you now?”

“The woman whose clothes I ruined. What is
her name?”

She flustered. “Oh, I’m sorry, I do not know.
She came by the recommendation of her cousin, Lady Cummings. I did
not think to ask her name.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said and hurried out of
the shop. He stood on the boardwalk and looked for her carriage,
but it was nowhere in sight.

He sighed. For the first time in forever, it
seemed, he’d met a woman he liked the look of. Tall and slender,
her spectacles lent her a dignified air. She appeared older than
five-and-twenty and that pleased him. He was sick to death of the
little debutants Lady Pen had been foisting on him of late. Her
manner was gentle, her smile genuine, and her countenance
attractive. Damn, he wished he had gotten her name.

Perhaps he could ride out to Cummings Hall
and present himself. He glanced down at his attire. Oh, Good God!
What must she think of him? He looked like a beggar. No wonder she
insisted he not pay for her cleaning. Well, he would remedy that on
the morrow.

The day broke cold and a storm loomed in the
air. Thomas slept fitfully, the ache in his shoulder kept him
tossing. Unsure if the weather or his overuse of it the day before
caused his pain, Thomas rubbed his muscles unthinking. Washed, he
stood before his armoire in only his brown breeches and stockings
and checked his jackets for moth holes. He desperately needed to
have new clothes made. His blacks were the only things not worn
through. Deciding on a green waistcoat and dark brown jacket, he
stuffed his feet into his old Hessians and sauntered down to the
kitchen.

Agnes, his housekeeper, looked up from her
bread making. “And where might you be headed on such an awful day?
Must be important as you’re dressed.” Her gap-toothed smile warmed
him.

“If you must know, I intend to call on a new
acquaintance.” He could not help the joviality in his tone and
walked to the counter to fix a cup of tea.

“A
female
acquaintance, then?”

“Yes, a
female
acquaintance.” He
paused. “Tell me, Aggie, do you know Lady Cummings?”

“Aye.” She gave him another grin. “Do you not
think she might be a little old for you?”

“Not
Lady
Cummings, Aggie. Her cousin.
Do you know anything about her?”

“I only heard the lady has one staying with
her. Come for a ball at some swell’s house in London. Only here for
three days or so.” She pounded the dough with her fist. “I should
hurry up then and meet her. She might be gone afore you know
it.”

Thomas fixed his tea while pondering this
information. That is what she said yesterday. His mind raced back
to their conversation. What had she said? ‘
I’ve been invited to
a lovely ball
…’ However, he couldn’t remember if she’d said
when. Turning to another matter he asked, “Have you seen Harry this
morning? Is he about downstairs?”

“Aye, holed up in the library.”

Her tone suggested his great uncle didn’t
wish to be disturbed. Too bad, Thomas needed his help.

In the library, Thomas approached slowly.
Startling the old man would lead to remonstrations he didn’t need.
He waited by the long table, and watched Harry make notations on
three different papers. Strewn across the eight-foot planks were
open books and papers laying beneath them. Uncle Harry’s great love
was the book he had been writing for two decades.
A
Comprehensive Guide to the Morals and Lives of the Greek Gods and
Goddesses
. Thomas couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to read
it, but it made the naming of his horses easier.

Harry dipped his quill in ink, made one more
notation, and sat back in his chair. He smiled to himself.

Thomas shuffled his foot against the
threadbare carpet.

Harry looked up. “There you are,” he said.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? Whatever for?” he asked.
Although, Thomas knew it would have to do with going into London.
The only time Harry left the house was to browse the
bookstores.

“I need to dash into Town. Crowling has
written, a new book has just come in, thinks I would find it
useful.” Harry stood. “You know how I feel about Graves and his
galloping gurdy driving.”

Thomas nodded. His uncle did not like his
stableman, thought he drove too fast. At nearly eighty, even a
sedate walk was too fast for the elderly duff.

“I’m afraid I have something of import to
attend right now,” Thomas said. He would not be kept from Cummings
Hall.

“What could possibly be of import to you
besides your foolish cattle?” Harry’s tone hinted at Thomas’s
impertinence.

“There is a call I wish to pay on a new
acquaintance.” Thomas looked down at the floor.

Harry eyed him suspiciously. “Who?”

“I cannot say. I did not get her name. She is
staying with Lady Cummings on the western edge of the wood.”

“A
girl
, Thomas?” Harry smiled. “Well,
well. Then, I shall forgive you for ruining my morning. However, I
would like to attend the matter most directly upon your
return.”

“Yes, of course,” Thomas said. “Harry, may I
ask you something?”

“Ask away.” His uncle sat back down in his
chair.

“Is this action too forward of me? I do not
wish to seem inappropriate.”

“How did you meet?” Harry leaned forward.

“I ran her down on the boardwalk.” Thomas
shot him a sheepish grin.

“You what?”

“I accidentally bumped into her yesterday,
and knocked her down.” Thomas explained the events of yesterday
morning. When finished he said, “And I thought I would present
myself to her. And so I ask, is that too presumptuous of me?”

Harry thought a minute. “No, I do not believe
so. However, I would present my card first.”

“I do not wish to do that. I’m afraid my
appearance yesterday may have misled her to believe my station was
lower than it is. I do not wish to disavow her of that impression
just yet.”

Harry nodded. “Wise choice. Considering your
past history.”

Thomas sighed. Would he never be able to
forget his mistakes?

“Be off with you then,” Harry said. “The
calling hour draws near.”

Thomas glanced at the clock. Half-ten. “Thank
you, Harry. I shall see you soon, and then I will take you into
Town.”

He and Graves hitched up his team to the
newly refurbished coach. It had taken the better part of the summer
to refit and condition the old carriage, and Thomas had
painstakingly done the work himself, partly to gain the strength
back in his arm, but more so for Harry. The old man deserved a
little comfort when he went about. Thomas had removed the
Davingdale crest from the door, and remained in a quandary whether
to put it back. That crest had belonged to his forebears and he
wanted a new crest that would belong exclusively to him. After all
he had done to repair the damage his father wrought, Thomas felt he
had every right to begin anew. He also liked the anonymity. No one
knew who he was. They couldn’t judge him.

A light rain had begun to fall by the time
they reached Cummings Hall. His stomach did a flip-flop when Graves
stopped the coach. He opened the door and looked at the manor
house. Almost in as bad shape as his had been.

Walking through the gate, Thomas rehearsed
his words. He tugged on the bell-pull and waited. And waited. They
must have gone out. Damn. Thomas turned away and headed back toward
the coach.

“Yes?”

He whirled around to find a housekeeper
dressed in simple clothes and a mobcap.

“Could you tell me if the young lady is home?
My name is Thomas Merrit. We met yesterday in the village. I wished
to enquire if she received her parcel from the dressmaker.” He drew
in a deep breath.

“Oh, Mr. Merrit. Yes, she did receive the
package and was most pleased, but I’m afraid she’s gone back to the
village. I’m sure she would have waited if she knew you would call,
only she wanted to try and beat the storm.”