The Convenient Arrangement (20 page)

“Since I spoke to you of that this morning, I have been informed by the servants here that the parish is as big as the whole of the moors.”

“You are exaggerating. It is much smaller than the complete expanse of Exmoor.”

Rising, she said, “The parish is spread out enough that the children would have a long ride to Moorsea Manor. As you have made it clear that you do not wish for me to arrange for a party that lasts longer than an afternoon, the children cannot stay as overnight guests here. Therefore, it is quite impossible to have such a party for David.”

“I never meant to cause you to put a halt to the boy's party.”

She shook her head. “That is not what's important now. What's important is that you and David learn to live together for as long as we're at Moorsea Manor.”

“About Oates and—”

“Lorenzo, David is the only thing that concerns me now.”

She was plying him with out-and-outers, he knew, because she again looked back at the hearth. She never would meet his eyes when she was being less than completely honest.

Pulling on a dry coat, he asked, “Where is the boy now?”

“He went riding with Gil. You know they wander all over the moors every afternoon.”

He did not want to own that he had had no idea where the two went, because he had been simply grateful that they were not creating trouble in the manor house. Picking up his hat, he said, “I believe I shall go and have a talk with the boy.”

“Don't distress him more.”

“I have no intention of doing that.” He ran his hand along the ruined wool of his drenched coat. “I intend to insist on an end to these gammocks before more is destroyed than a coat. If that bucket had landed on old Earl's head, for example, he could have been greatly hurt.”

Again her face became wan. “Lorenzo, don't forget that David is just a little boy.”

He put out his hand. He had meant to clasp her shoulder, but somehow his fingers curved along her cheek. The silken warmth of her skin sent a blistering flame through him. Tilting her face toward him, he watched, his breath caught in his chest, as her eyes closed. In anticipation or in resignation? Hastily he stepped away. He must be all about in his head to be acting so.

“Do not worry, Valeria,” he said, his voice gruff with the emotions he was trying to suppress. “I shall deal with David in a way that will meet your approval.”

As he walked to the door, she said, “Lorenzo, I believe that—”

“Trust me on this.”

His hand froze as he reached for the door when he thought he heard her say, “I wish I could.” He looked back, but she pushed past him and crossed the hall to her rooms.

Her door closed so softly that he heard the bolt slide into place.

Lorenzo left the house, had his horse saddled, asked a few questions of the stableboy, and then rode in the direction David and Gil had been heading when they left Moorsea Manor an hour before. He doubted if he would find them quickly amid the expanse of the moors, and he was right, but the rough ride where he had to watch the path ahead of him carefully kept him from thinking of Valeria and her peculiar ways.

An hour later, he still had not seen a sign of where the boys might be. He sat on the low stone wall and stared out at the channel. It must be presaging a storm because it was throwing itself against the headland as if the waves intended to try to sweep the beach back into the sea.

Somehow, before Valeria bashed herself as futilely against his unchanging opinions, he was going to have to find a way to explain to her why he thought it was best that she marry someone like Sir Tilden Oates. Then she could enjoy her exciting life in London. He had been awed by how easily she flitted from one conversation to the next at Oates Hall, always finding a welcome and never saying the wrong thing to anyone. Each person she had spoken to seemed delighted that she had sought him or her out. After that evening, he could understand why she pined at Moorsea Manor for the entertainments that had once been commonplace for her.

The very entertainments he despised.

Mayhap he should simply be honest with her, explaining how he preferred the quiet company of a few friends where conversations could continue for hours, rather than moments, where one could speak of matters more important than what color the
haut monde
at Almacks had chosen last week, where he could be comfortable to speak his mind instead of knowing he would make a
faux pas
if he were to open his mouth. Being shy was something Valeria could not comprehend, but it was a facet of himself that he lived with daily.

A shout rippled from the glen above. He stood and, shading his eyes so he could look toward the bright sky, realized at least one of the boys was kneeling by the wall not more than a quarter mile away. Mounting, he rode to where David was digging by the wall. A deep hole had been cut out of the earth, and Gil, a sheepish grin on his face, carried a bucket—the twin of the one that had doused Lorenzo—filled with dirt, and was dumping it over the stone wall.

“What have you there, David?” Lorenzo asked, noting that Gil seemed quick to find something to occupy him on the other side of the wall. He would speak with the footman later. Now he must find a way to ease the tensions between him and Valeria's nephew.

For a moment, he feared the boy would remain intractable and would not reply, but David leapt to his feet and called, “Come and see this!”

“What?”

“This!”

Lorenzo smiled as he dismounted and walked over to the wall. He never had heard such animation in David's voice. Mayhap the lad had found something other than pranks to fill his time.

“I got directions to this spot from Aunt Valeria,” David said, staring down at his hands, “and she was right. There was another old thing buried in the dirt along this wall.”

“Old thing?” Lorenzo squatted beside the boy who dropped back to his knees.

“This.”

He was amazed again when David dropped something onto his hand, and it did not slither or have three pair of legs. The item was not much bigger than the button on the front of his coat, but was caked with earth. He chipped some of the dirt away and ran his fingers over the raised figure on the small circle. “I believe you have found an old coin.”

David frowned. “I thought it was something good.”

“It is.”

“What's so good about an old coin?”

Lorenzo tilted it toward the boy. “A truly old coin, David. I would guess, like the vase your Aunt Valeria brought to the manor, this is Roman.”

“From Italy?”

“Mayhap, or mayhap it was minted here in England. Either way, it was most likely brought here over 1500 years ago.”

His eyes widened in sudden delight. “So long ago? How did it get here?”

Wondering if Valeria's brother had given the child any attention or education on anything other than perpetrating practical jokes, Lorenzo sat back on his heels. “The Romans came here then and conquered the island.”

“Us?” His thin chest puffed out, and he repeated with schoolboy pride, “No one has invaded England successfully since the Norman William the Conqueror came to claim his throne.”

“That happened when?”

“In 1066.”

“Which was nearly 700 years after the Romans came to this part of England.”

David muttered something in surprise under his breath. Lorenzo decided it would be best not to ask him to repeat it more loudly, because he suspected the words were some that Valeria would chide the boy for speaking.

Turning the coin over and over, Lorenzo said quietly, “Long before the Normans, long before the Vikings came to pillage England, even before King Arthur created his round table not far from here at Camelot, the Romans arrived to the island they called Britannia to conquer and to settle and live and die.” He reached out to touch the stones protruding in a regular pattern from the earth near the base of the wall. “This may have been a wall of a building or the foundation of a house.”

“A house? Is that all?”

“You might find the most interesting artifacts around this wall. People have been tossing aside their possessions for centuries.”

“I have no interest in Roman garbage.”

He tossed the coin and caught it “You've seen the amphorae—”

“The what?”

“The big vases with stoppers on the top. They were used for shipping wine and grain. I know you have seen those about Moorsea Manor.”

“Broken for the most part.”

“There is that one with the painting of a young man that is still miraculously complete.”

David shook his head again. “That's boring.”

“True, but one never knows what one might find if one keeps searching.” He picked up the shovel and lifted out another layer of dirt. “Remember the Romans were invaders and overlords here. They would have brought many of their best warriors to England to help stave off the threat from the Picts and the Celts.”

“Warriors?” His eyes widened, and Lorenzo knew he had the boy's attention now.

“Of course. Exmoor would have been at the edge of the Roman Empire. Beyond the sea awaited the heathen tribes of Ireland, who could have, at any moment, been washed up out of the sea to battle for these lands. Just across the channel to the north is Wales where even more clans hid in the highest valleys, rejecting Roman rule. Those who lived here must have been constantly vigilant.”

“Real warriors?”

“The best.” He smiled. “And, when they left, they were being recalled to defend Rome from the barbarians laying siege on it, so they could not have taken all their possessions with them. What remained was tossed aside or buried, so their enemies could not use them against the retreating Romans. Years upon years of building on this moor have buried the remnants more deeply, but century upon century of wind and rain have given us the chance to find them again.” He poked at another dull glint of tarnished silver with his toe. “I believe that is a match for the coin you found.”

David scooped it up and brushed the dirt from it. “It's the same on one side, but the other is different. Mine has a angel on that side. Yours has a lady with a staff.”

Lorenzo took both coins and balanced them in his hand. They weighed about the same, and they both had a bust on one side. He squinted to read the letters.

IMP TRAIANO AVG GER DAC PM TR P
was on the coin David had found.
M COMMODVS AVG
circled the head on his.

“Yours is from the time of Emperor Trajan,” he said as he handed David the coin. “Mine is not quite so old, for it is labeled Commodus, who was emperor of Rome almost a hundred years later.”

“So mine is older?” His thin chest puffed with pride.

Lorenzo struggled not to smile. “Quite a bit older. Congratulations. When we return to the manor, we can see what among my uncle's collection is of an age of your coin and of mine. If you will allow me to take this with me, I shall make sure it is put in the glass case in the library.”

“Really?”

“It may be the oldest item of all.”

David grinned and picked up the shovel. “Take it back with you if you wish. I think I'll spend some more time working here. I want to see what else I can find that's older than you.”

“Older than me?”

The boy flushed. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Older than my coins.” Standing, he said, “Good luck with your search, David.” He wiped his hands and called, “Gil, David could use your bucket to carry more dirt.”

“Aye, my lord,” the footman said, popping over the wall. “I've been—”

“I know what you've been doing.” He glanced at David who was listening with a guilty expression on his young face. “I know what you both have been doing. After you finish your work here today, please join me in the library. I think I can show you some other items that you might want to keep an eye out for.”

“Warrior's things?” David asked.

“Mayhap.”

The boy grinned and bent to his digging as Lorenzo walked back to his horse.

That should solve the problem of what to do with the boy. Now if he could devise a way to solve the problem of the boy's aunt with equal ease, he would finally have the quiet life he wanted at Moorsea Manor.

Thirteen

When a knock came at Valeria's door, she hurried to answer it. This was the hour when Lorenzo usually finished his work and once had sought her out for some conversation or maybe a ride along the moors. In the past fortnight, he had not come to ask her to join him for an afternoon outing or even for tea.

She had no cause to lament his manners since their conversation in his room after David had set what she hoped was his last hoax. Lorenzo's demeanor had been as perfectly polite as any member of the Polite World, but she missed his unexpected remarks and unique insights. When he had spoken to her, which was seldom, for he seemed always busy in some other part of the manor house, it was as if they were strangers. She had not guessed that, by denouncing his plans for her with Tilden, she would lose Lorenzo's friendship.

Friendship and trust … She could not fault him for being hurt when she had owned, aloud to her immediate regret, that she was not sure if she could trust him. She wanted to, but in the wake of his agreement to allow Tilden to call on her, she could not be sure if he had her best interests or his own in mind. She doubted if her best interests and his were the same.

Mayhap that was changing. Mayhap he was ready to try again at their uneasy friendship. If he came to her door to ask her to ride with him across the moors, she would agree wholeheartedly. A ride and a chance to clear the air between them would be just the cure for her dreary spirits that had preyed on her since she woke this morning.

Not that she should be in dismals. The past week had brought a sense of peace to Moorsea Manor that she never had known here or in London. Even as Lorenzo seemed to be shutting her out of his life, he and David had developed a common interest in all the debris the old earl had carted into the house. After David returned to the house each day, sunburned and covered with dirt and with Gil in tow, Lorenzo and the boy spent every evening pawing through the boxes. She should be glad that they had found something that brought them together instead of driving them apart.