The Notorious Widow (9 page)

“He may be caring, but he was also irritated by your loquacity and may wish us all to Hades for tricking him into this visit.”

“Fustian! He is fascinated with me. And he loves music. He asked me to play, then listened raptly to piece after piece. The interest was not feigned, for he recognized every selection, one of which is not well known.”

Laura had continued extolling his instant infatuation for nearly an hour, ignoring all caveats. She had not even recognized the ploy that had ensconced her at the pianoforte so he could escape her attentions. Even William had understood that motive.

Catherine sighed. Laura would make Rockhurst a perfect wife, but he would never recognize it if she presented herself as an aggressive fortune hunter instead of the sweet, accomplished lady she really was. He was not the sort to enjoy pressure. When she returned from Exeter, she must speak to Laura again. William was out with the steward, or she would ask him to do it now.

She ducked into the suite that had once been her mother’s. William had given it to her when she’d returned home after Harold’s death. Placing her here had subtly increased her authority, widening the gulf marriage had already placed between her and the girls.

She would soon lose these rooms, though. William was actively seeking a wife. Even if his courtship of Miss Wyath failed, he would find another candidate. Thus her position in the household would change again, stripping her of much of her current authority and relegating her to the role of poor relation. And her head approved. It was time William looked to his own future, and she had often pressed him to do so. But her heart knew she would be biting her tongue often in the years ahead. And how would Sarah enjoy sharing the nursery with cousins whose importance exceeded her own?

One benefit of Jasper’s rumors had been Miss Wyath’s sudden coolness. Catherine had approved the courtship in the beginning, for Alicia had seemed sweet and well trained. Only after several meetings did she suspect that the girl’s parents were pushing the connection to improve their own consequence – though the Wyaths were respectable, their aristocratic connections were remote. But if Alicia did not truly want William, then she would care little for Laura and Mary.

She had shared her concerns with William several months ago, but he’d refused to listen, swearing that Alicia had made no attempt to force an offer. Nor had she tried to catch his eye in the beginning. Catherine didn’t believe it, but when he’d accused her of opposing the match so she could retain her position in the household, she’d dropped the matter.

Yesterday, Alicia had sent a polite note canceling his weekly call. William had accepted her claim of a headache, but Catherine recognized the ploy as a way to distance herself from the Seabrooks until she could determine the effect of the current scandal.

But William’s courtship was not today’s concern. She had interviews to arrange. Donning her cloak and bonnet, she headed for the stable.

* * * *

Blake left the nursery floor when Mary arrived to start the day’s lessons. Sarah was an enchanting angel, quite precocious for her seven years. None of his cousins had been likable at that age. In truth, few were likable at any age, having been spoiled by inept nurses and indolent parents. Whenever he declined their demands, they erupted with tantrums and destructive pranks. He’d finally banned two from the Abbey and informed a third that she was welcome only if she left her children at home.

Few of his relatives were pleasant. His father’s inability to turn down requests for money was responsible for most of his financial losses, a fact the family refused to accept. The most importunate of the cousins had denied that the money was actually gone. When he’d declined to pay their debts, they’d retaliated by publicly calling him a miser. The unpleasantness had created rifts that still remained. Their children perpetuated the myth, viewing him as an ogre bent on making them miserable.

But Sarah was a delight. He smiled, recalling her descriptions. She’d been amusing herself by painting portraits when he’d arrived.

“Aunt Laura is silly,” she claimed, showing him a watercolor that vaguely resembled Seabrook’s sister. “She’s always putting lemon juice on her hair to make it lighter, and she giggles every time a man comes near her, though Mama says that is quite all right.” She shook her head, not yet understanding the game of flirtation she would embrace when she was older. “Uncle William says she reads far too many Minerva romances and should stop dreaming and accept one of her suitors instead of turning them all down.”

Laura would be horrified to hear Sarah’s chatter, he decided as the girl continued with a witty recitation of the stratagems Laura used to avoid the nursery. Children recognized insincerity. Though Laura played the role of doting aunt in company, she did not like Sarah, whose sweetness made her occasional waspishness more obvious and whose good sense made her seem frivolous.

Mary was quite different. “She’s a great gun,” proclaimed Sarah, pointing to a better picture. “She tells the most wonderful stories about birds and animals and flowers.”

“You do your lessons with her, I believe.”

“Some of them. She teaches me about places where people wear odd clothes and do strange things. They sound exciting, though she says I wouldn’t enjoy an actual visit. It’s like ghosts. They are funny in stories, but when Mr. Farley actually saw one last year, he nearly died of fright.”

She had chattered for over an hour, delighting him with her observations. By the time he left, he had a clearer understanding of the household. Mary was a bluestocking and quite painfully shy. Though already eighteen, she attracted none of the gentlemen who called on Laura. Few even noted her presence long enough to greet her. Catherine devoted her life to helping others, becoming almost despondent when faced with a problem she couldn’t fix. William hadn’t changed much since school. He focused on the estate, spending little time in the nursery, though he’d taught Sarah how to ride.

Her observations were not confined to family. The area was populated by a host of people she described as giggly, grumpy, kind, or cruel. Miss Wyath was grumpy, ignoring Sarah unless William was with her – he was courting the lady. Then she cooed in feigned delight. Miss Hawkins was even sillier than Laura, making sheep’s eyes at Jasper whenever they met. But Sarah’s harshest words were for Jasper. He was a bad man, who hated children and punished anyone who bothered him. Her papa had said that those who hurt others also hurt themselves, but she didn’t see that Jasper was hurting.

“Isn’t it a beautiful morning, my lord?” asked Laura, appearing as he reached the foot of the stairs. Again, she moved a step too close.

He backed a pace. “If you enjoy rain.”

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, though his response did not dim her enthusiasm. She was again overdressed, in a walking gown suitable for the fashionable hour in Hyde Park. “You have not yet seen the house, my lord. It has a distinguished history. The Seabrooks have even entertained royalty.”

Not recently, he decided uncharitably, then evaded her attempt to take his arm. “Mrs. Parrish gave me a tour this morning.” He saw no need to mention that it had covered only the rooms between the library and the nursery. “If you will excuse me, I have an errand in town.”

“How delightful. So do I. We can share a carriage.” Her expression seemed guileless until he looked into her eyes.

He let ice into his voice. “Sharing a carriage would be most improper, Miss Seabrook. Where is your decorum?”

“I would take my maid, sir.” But her face reddened.

“Insufficient. Have you forgotten why I am here? The rumors have tarnished the entire household. Setting foot in Exeter will attract cuts, even if you go without me. What you suggest is hoydenish enough to ruin you. If you wish to emerge from this scandal unscathed, you cannot raise even minor questions about your propriety.”

“But—”

“Truth is less important than appearance, Miss Seabrook. And even appearance can be twisted. I’ve no doubt you are a lady, but I will have no part in confirming suspicions for those who wish you ill. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be away before the roads deteriorate.”

Nodding curtly, he escaped to his room. Perhaps his scold would keep her at a distance, but he doubted it. She was too self-centered to understand that rumor could turn people against her in a trice. If he had interpreted Sarah’s chatter correctly, Laura had turned down several offers because the gentlemen did not offer the adventure and romance embraced by the heroes in her favorite novels – which made his own position precarious. The moment reality crashed through her self-absorption, desperation would rule. Eyes clouded by fantasy often twisted events to fit desire. She had already dismissed last night’s rebuffs and would likely twist this scold into concern for her reputation. From there, it was a short step to convincing herself that he wanted her, justifying any action to bring them together.

He grimaced. Had Jasper used Laura’s flirtations as the basis of his campaign against Catherine? He might make a case that Catherine was corrupting her. Even though Catherine had married when Laura was twelve, she had lived nearby and often tutored her sisters.

It was a thought to consider, for Laura’s flirting was visible to all. But his immediate problem was to escape further confrontations. He could not visit Exeter until Catherine set up the promised interviews, but he could talk to the villagers.

Donning his greatcoat and hat, he headed for the stables. A cold drizzle continued to fall, making the path slippery and chilling him to the bone. It changed his mind about riding. He would take his carriage for this short journey.

“Will the roads hold up in this weather?” he asked as his groom harnessed the team.

“Charlie says they will.” Ted nodded toward the Seabrook groom. “He has a uncanny knack for knowin’ the weather. And for knowin’ people,” he added in an undertone. “Talk is Miss Laura has her cap set for you.”

“I know.”

Ted ignored his oppressive tone. “Charlie calls her a romantic, though she’s refused half a dozen gentlemen – too old, too cold, too brutal…”

“If she is particular, then I’ve nothing to fear.”

“Maybe. But you are an earl, beggin’ your pardon. And she knows she’ll never see London.”

Blake nodded.

“One of the lads claims she feels stifled at Seabrook.”

The information corroborated his impressions. A yearning for excitement. A longing to escape. The realization that no one in the area could provide either, and that the rumors promised worse to come. And Laura was not the only threat. William must be nearly as desperate to see her off his hands.

“You might mention that my sole reason for calling is to conduct business with Seabrook – but not personal business,” he murmured as Ted finished buckling harness.

The village was too close, he decided, climbing into the carriage. She might follow him there. He could talk to the locals another day. Instead, he would learn more about the countryside.

Half an hour later, he regretted his decision. Though the rain remained light, only one reasonable road ran through this part of Devonshire. The lanes that branched from it were narrow, poorly maintained, and very slick. And the temperature continued to fall. It wasn’t fair to subject his horses and coachman to these conditions merely to escape one forward lady. Overgrown hedgerows made this lane nearly impassable. It was time to turn around and head back – if turning was possible.

He’d raised his hand to rap on the roof when the near hedge ended, providing a view of a gorse-studded hillside dotted with sheep. A boy of about nine was poking a stick into the ditch. Signaling the coachman to stop, he opened the window.

“Did you lose something, lad?”

“Nah, sir.” Guilt flashed across his face. The boy was undoubtedly supposed to be working.

“Then perhaps you can tell me whether this road leads to Lord Rankin’s estate.”

“Sorta, but you don’t want to take no fancy carriage that way. ’Tis better to take t’ main road to town. But not today. He ain’t home. Went down to Plymouth last week to visit his lady friend. You can talk with t’ heir if it’s urgentlike – he lives at t’ old Wilkins place – but I don’t advise it, sir. He’s a bad one, he is. Like to put your head on a pike, he would, if you disturb him.”

Blake stifled a grin, imagining his coachman’s face at this bit of impertinence. “So I understand. What has he done to you, lad?”

“Nuttin, but he sure made trouble for Jemmy. Told his pa Jemmy’d throwed rocks at his carriage, but I swear he didn’t. Jemmy wouldn’t do nuttin that bad. He minds his manners better’n that.”

“I’m sure he does, but he must have done something to prompt such a plumper.”

“Well…” He dug one toe into the mud. “Jemmy did peep into his carriage, but he didn’t touch nuttin. Just wanted to see what it were like ’cause his sister Carrie’d been bragging about riding home in a fancy carriage, and he didn’t believe her tales.”

“So he satisfied his curiosity but called down Rankin’s wrath for his pains.”

“I don’t know why. What’s t’ harm in looking? He kept his hands behind his back and didn’t leave even a speck of dust.”

“But some folks care less for the effect than for the offense,” Blake reminded him. “What was his punishment?”

“Double chores.” He sighed. “I never see him no more.”

“Patience, lad. He won’t be busy forever. In the meantime, stay away from young Rankin.”

Guilt bloomed in the boy’s eyes, confirming that he’d been entertaining himself with plots for revenge.

Blake smiled. “Don’t play tricks on the man, or you’ll find yourself in worse trouble than Jemmy. I’ve a bone to pick with him myself, and I’ll add yours to my list.”

“You’re going after Master Jasper?” His eyes widened into white globes.

“That’s our secret for now,” he cautioned.

“I won’t tell a soul.” Excitement lit his face. “Can I help?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know how yet, but I will keep your offer in mind. Where can I reach you?”

He gestured to a cottage in the distance. “Harry Fields, sir, at your service.”