The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  “I’m not a biddable woman. Understand that. And while I find the idea of four gentlemen being devoted to my well-being an attractive and alluring concept, if that devotion does not include the respect due to my opinions on matters other than gowns and fripperies, there will be arguments with everyone.” She sighed. “I’m tired of being pushed aside.”

  Royce frowned. “Nobody here will push you aside, my Lady. Surely you realise that?”

  “I’m not speaking literally, and I think you understand that. But everyone is treating me with tenderness, and affection. Which is all very nice, but it doesn’t help me when I have ideas, or suggestions or thoughts about matters that go beyond what is apparently accepted in a Lady of Wolfbridge.” She turned her head and looked at him. “Such as our argument about the crops.”

  “I’m not ignoring you.” His lips firmed.

  “No, you’re not. But you’re also not really paying much attention to what I suggest.”

  He was silent for a minute or two, negotiating the turn onto the narrow road leading to the Wolfbridge stables. “I don’t know how to respond to that. What do you want of me?” He glanced at her.

  In that moment, she saw honesty in his eyes. He really wasn’t sure how to handle this situation.

  “I want to be respected.” She gave him honesty back. “And I especially want to know that I am somewhere where all the bits and pieces of who I am are recognised. Not just the womanly ones.”

  Royce watched the horse as they drew up to the stables and the two lads came running out to help Trick. “I have no idea how that will work, Lady Gwyneth. From what I’ve seen and heard, you’re very different to the last Lady of Wolfbridge. There may be some adjustments necessary.”

  “I see no problem there, do you?”

  He came around the side of the gig to assist her, holding up his hand. “I sincerely hope not,” he answered her question. “But I wouldn’t wager on it.”

  Trick and Jane came up to greet her formally and the moment was lost. She smiled and did all that was proper, feeling more like a Lady of Wolfbridge at this moment than she’d done before. Such courtesies were second nature to her over the course of her life, and she slid into the role with ease.

  But at the back of her mind, a niggling imp of doubt still lingered. Would this be the one spot where she could finally become the complete woman she’d always known she could be?

  Or was it just another place that catered to her as a tender and mostly helpless female, and nothing else?

  Time would tell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Giles welcomed the foursome, making sure that Gwyneth was feeling well and not overtired, while greeting Trick and Jane with the air of an uncle. Which he was, in many ways.

  Royce caught his eye for a brief moment, an indication that he might have matters to discuss. Always observant, Giles had great faith in Royce’s ability to spot things, so after the various parties had settled themselves—Jeremy and Trick in the parlour with Gwyneth and Jane heading to the kitchen to speak with Evan—Giles walked to his study and found Royce there.

  “Something?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Royce. “But it’s worth mentioning.”

  He then related his discussion with Gwyneth and followed with a blow-by-blow description of their argument.

  “And she didn’t object to being kissed…” Giles watched a slight flush creep into Royce’s cheeks.

  “No. But she accused me of trying to divert her attention. Which I was.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And I did, I think. For all of two minutes.”

  “Single minded, is she?”

  “Stubborn is a better word.”

  “Does she have a point? About the crops?” Giles stared at the other man, wondering if perhaps there were two people being stubborn during that argument.

  “She might. I’d have to look into it.” He sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “I have been reading about some revolutionary ideas that are taking hold in other parts of the country. Improving yields with different rotations, things like that. Clover and turnips are part of that plan.”

  “So it’s worth a look then?”

  “I certainly will do some research,” agreed Royce. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to drop everything for one of her suggestions…”

  “And I would prefer it that way.” Giles stared from the window, gathering his thoughts.

  “She’s going to want to run the place, you know.” Royce’s words were more of a warning than a statement.

  “It is hers to do with as she wishes, Royce, you are well aware of that.”

  He nodded. “It wasn’t clear that it also included the more practical side of running an estate.”

  “She is perfectly within her rights to do so,” Giles shrugged. “I would intervene if I thought anything she chose might be detrimental to Wolfbridge, however. Have no fears on that score.”

  “So I should take her a degree more seriously, then, is what you’re hinting at?”

  “If you’ve not been taking her seriously, then yes. However, I sense that you have been taking her seriously all along, except when she dared step out of the role of helpless female and into what you perceive as your bailiwick.”

  Ruefully, Royce chuckled. “You’re most likely right. It seems I am learning about a few of my own attitudes along with learning how to be a Wolfbridge gentleman.”

  “It is the same for all of us. Especially you, Royce. You’ve been independent for many years. This is an about-face for you. And I’m sure there will be more challenges along the way.” Giles watched as Royce rose with a nod. “Just remember that she has been badly treated. Very badly treated. She’s presently finding her way back to a semblance of her old self. What we hope is that she bases her new self on that and the confidence we give her. It will be interesting to see the woman she becomes.”

  “It will indeed.” Royce turned for the door. “Thank you, Giles. In case I forget to mention it—which may happen since I’m likely to be hit with a brick in the not too distant future—I do value your wisdom and counsel.”

  Giles grinned. “I will make a note to have all loose bricks removed from her Ladyship’s vicinity.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  This conversation lingered in Giles’s mind for several days, and he made a point to observe Gwyneth as she interacted with her gentlemen. He was looking for something, a hint of the steel that Royce believed to be lurking beneath her delicate exterior.

  She was certainly recovered now. Her face and her body had filled out enough to render her a delight to the eye. She held herself with more confidence and smiled more often. Her short curly hair gave her a pixie-like appearance, which she apparently recognised, and used. The occasional silk flower appeared, tucked in amongst the soft curls, and she favoured gowns in fabrics that drifted around her legs and feet as she walked.

  The Wolfbridge wardrobes held several generations worth of garments, and the village seamstresses always enjoyed creating something for the Lady of the Manor. Often he would take an older, out of fashion garment to the and let them use it as they willed. He was never disappointed, and thus far there had been no complaints from any of the Ladies.

  The latest of her new acquisitions, a peach and ivory lace creation, both flattered her complexion and gave her the illusion of height. She seemed satisfied and confident as she left the breakfast room and headed for the small study she had adopted as her own.

  For a few days she had been moving things around, and he could not fault her desire for a place to work, to read and one which was exclusively hers. But Royce was still finding it hard to share some of the Wolfbridge correspondence, even though it was addressed to the Lady of the Manor.

  She had just emerged when the front door knocker echoed loudly around the hall.

  Giles walked over and opened it.

  “Good day to you. I am here to visit the Dowager Countess Kilham? I believe she is residing here now.”

  A ma
n stood there, staring at Giles, driving gloves in his hand, and a smart carriage at the bottom of the steps. About to answer, Giles’s words were forestalled.

  “Goodness, is it really you? Baron Randschen?” Gwyneth hurried to the door, her hand extended in welcome. “How ever did you find me?”

  “Ah, my dear Countess. So very lovely, as ever.”

  The bow was low, the kiss on the knuckles warmly affectionate, and Giles felt every hackle on the back of his neck stand up in protest.

  “My Lady?” He glanced at Gwyneth who was wreathed in smiles.

  “I know this gentleman, Giles.” She turned to the stranger. “My Lord, if you will permit me, I’d like to make you known to Giles, officially my butler, but unofficially the man who takes care of Wolfbridge. Giles, this is Margrave Randschen, a friend of mine, though I’m told that here in England, the title of Baron is appropriate…?”

  “Correct as always, my Lady.”

  Randschen smiled as Giles bowed, stepped back, and ushered him in to the Manor. “Welcome, my Lord,” he said politely, accepting the hat and gloves handed to him.

  The Baron’s eyes wandered rapidly around the hall as he turned to Gwyneth and took her hand once again. “Such a pleasant house,” he said, approval in his tone. “You must tell me how it is that you are here, my dear. I looked for you at Kilham, but nobody seemed to know where you had gone…”

  Giles watched them chatting casually as Gwyneth led him to the parlour. She glanced back at Giles. “Tea, I think, Giles? If you could let Jeremy know…”

  Giles bowed. “Of course, my Lady.”

  “Your servants are most efficient, my dear.” The Baron’s smile was…unsettling. “They must be so grateful for the chance to serve such a lovely lady as yourself.”

  Giles didn’t hear Gwyneth’s response, since he was on his way to find Jeremy. Something about the Baron bothered Giles. A feeling, a sensation of unease—whenever that occurred, trouble tended to arrive in its wake.

  Giles would take no chances. Old friend or not, the Lady must be protected at all costs. It remained to be seen whether she would need such protection, but if she did, it would be there.

  They would be there. Because that’s what the gentlemen did.

  *~~*~~*

  “How did you locate me, sir?” Gwyneth settled herself in her chair as the Baron moved to the window and looked out.

  A slight frown crossed his handsome face. “The staff at Kilham were not helpful, I am sad to say. And they mentioned something about the Dower House. But as I left, a maid came up to me and revealed that she’d seen a carriage leaving there some time before. She believed you might have been in it, since the Dower House was empty and near collapse. A few enquiries directed me here.”

  His eyes turned to her, unusually dark and piercing. She’d noticed them upon their first meeting, wondering if they were just a very dark brown or if, in fact, they were as they appeared—all black.

  “I am sad to report that yes, the Dower House was indeed in less than ideal condition,” she answered. “But fortunately I learned of my connection to Wolfbridge and decided to leave Kilham for a different future.” She would not mention what happened there, to anyone who did not need to know.

  “You have a link to this family?” He gazed out the window again. “The grounds seem charming indeed.”

  “I do, yes. Through a great aunt on my mother’s side.”

  “Ah. Not the Kilham line then.”

  “No.” She left that topic there. “What brings you here, Baron, if I may ask? Why were you seeking me?”

  “I have been away for quite some time,” he began, leaning against the windowsill in a casual pose. “And upon my return I learned of my good friend the Earl’s passing. I immediately knew that I had been remiss in not offering my personal condolences…”

  She nodded, a brief dip of her head in acknowledgement.

  “And…I wished to know if you were as beautiful as you were when we first met, my dear.” His smile was gentle and caressing, but never reached his eyes. “Had I been privileged to make your acquaintance before the Earl, I can assure you, with all due modesty, your life would have been much different.”

  She blushed, in spite of herself. Such words were embarrassing, to say the least, and it took her a moment to come up with a suitable reply.

  “I am most flattered, sir, but we cannot go back and change the past. We can only move forward.”

  He nodded. “You are correct, of course. However, I am encouraged by the sight of you, entranced yet again by your luminous beauty and charm, and thrilled that you have put aside your mourning. Though it is not yet a year, I feel myself emboldened by the vision of spring before me.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Therefore I must do what I failed to do before. I must tell you that your image has embedded itself in my heart. I know there is much I should do before declaring myself, but I cannot wait or allow anyone else to claim what I perceive, deep inside, is rightfully mine.”

  He walked to her, dropped on one knee and took her hand in his, apparently ignoring her widened eyes, her frown and her slightly open mouth.

  “Be mine, dear Gwyneth. Make me the happiest man alive. Marry me and become Baroness Randschen. Alleviate my loneliness with your sweet affections.”

  Gwyneth wanted to wrench her hand from his grasp, but his grip was firm. Her usual control was quivering, on the brink of deserting her. She was afraid, for some reason she could not identify. Held in thrall to the look in those dark as night eyes, she struggled for words.

  Thankfully there was a rattle at the door and Jeremy entered with the tea tray. As a result, the Baron jumped to his feet, a German oath sputtering on his tongue.

  “Here we are, my Lady. Evan has taken the liberty of adding some of his fresh scones. I believe they will tempt your appetites?”

  His smile was all teeth, and Gwyneth could see his muscles rippling as his body tensed. He knew. He’d seen the Baron on his knees.

  She heaved a sigh of relief and rose with a grateful smile curving her lips. “Thank you, Jeremy. That is most welcome. I’m sure the Baron will enjoy a cup, will you not, sir?” She moved to the small table and allowed Jeremy to pour.

  The Baron, in the presence of a footman, was left with nothing to do but take a seat and smile politely.

  Gwyneth managed to change the subject, asking after some mutual acquaintances, speaking calmly of the funeral of the Earl, and touching briefly upon the sadness that had visited Kilham.

  Then she turned to questions…where had the Baron been recently? Had he been in London…all the kinds of topics that were unexceptional and quite acceptable for a morning visit.

  Jeremy stood quietly by the door, his hands behind him, exactly as would be expected.

  There was no way the Baron could complain about his presence.

  After fifteen or twenty long minutes, another tap on the door heralded Giles. He bowed politely. “Forgive me, my Lady, but you will recall that the Vicar of St. Polycarp expects you shortly. The meeting about the Whit Sunday events?”

  “Ah yes, of course. Thank you for reminding me, Giles.” She rose and turned to the Baron. “My apologies, sir, but my duties must bring our delightful visit to a close.”

  He nodded and rose. “I must thank you for your courtesies, my dear lady. You are as generous with your time as you are with your smiles.”

  She couldn’t help a slight shiver. There was something about this man’s compliments that did not sound in the least bit complimentary.

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss on her knuckles. “I trust you will take the matter we touched upon under consideration?” A squeeze of her fingers emphasised his point.

  “Of course, sir. Are you staying in the area?”

  He threaded her arm through his as he turned to walk out of the parlour. “For a day or so only, to my regret. I have rooms at the Inn in Little Maddington, and business matters to attend to. It is great good fortune that
I can combine these things with a chance to see you again.”

  “How kind,” she murmured. “Although I’m at a loss to guess at your business matters. Unless you are planning on becoming a jam supplier…” She laughed at her own joke.

  “Pardon…” He took his hat and gloves from Giles. “I do not understand?”

  “Wolfbridge produces jams and jellies of great renown, sir. Our products are much desired as far away as London.”

  “I see,” he smiled. “I will have to make sure to try them.” He stepped outside and took a breath of the warm spring air. “No, I am not here for your jams. I’ve heard of a property for sale that might suit me. Fivetrees, I believe it’s called…”

  “Ah, yes. Not far from here. In fact our lands border theirs. The owner passed away last year, I understand, so you will probably wish to deal with the lawyers representing the estate.”

  “Doubtless that will be the case.” He bowed deeply. “I hope to visit again soon, dear Gwyneth. I trust you’ll allow me the impropriety of using your given name, but we are…friends, are we not?” Once again, he kissed her hand, his eyes fixed on her face.

  “You are so gracious, Baron.” She managed a blush.

  He nodded, released her, and stalked down the steps to his carriage. He was driving himself, and with a casual wave clicked up the horses and took off at a spanking pace down the driveway and onto the lane beyond.

  Gwyneth heaved a sigh of relief. “I don’t like him. I didn’t like him the first time I met him, but I thought I was just being a silly girl. Now I know I’m not.”

  “I must admit to a similar reaction, my Lady.” Giles stared thoughtfully after the carriage. “I wonder what he wanted…”

  “Me,” she answered, wiping her hands on her skirts as if to rid herself of the Baron’s touch. “He proposed. Asked me to marry him.”

  Giles blinked. “Good God. Did he really?”