He’d decided the direction his life would take years ago—accepted himself as a fringe member of the English aristocracy. He’d entered trade initially to defy his father’s archaic beliefs. And now, irony of ironies, the funds he’d amassed would rebuild his father’s legacy. No, his grandfather’s legacy and that of all those before him. His father had squandered the benefits and privilege of holding an earldom. The legacy Garrett embraced was from those who had lived before his sire.
In his youth, Garrett had resisted his claim to nobility. Associating its members with his father, he’d beaten them at cards and leered at their daughters.
And now, with his father out of the picture, and the approval of the Spencers, some of these aristocrats were ironically befriending him. And as confounding as it might seem, he now found himself presented with one of their daughters. The daughter of a man he’d long respected.
The Earl of Ravensdale was everything Garrett’s father had not been—hardworking, shrewd in business, and loyal to his wife and family. Lady Natalie had been raised well. She did not exhibit all the spoiled tendencies so many of the aristocracy’s marriageable misses did, contrary to his initial impression.
Not that she wasn’t just a tad spoiled, and rebellious, and delightfully spontaneous. She was all of these things and more. Against his own inclination, Garrett felt drawn to her.
But did he need a wife? For that was where all this dallying would eventually land him. Lady Natalie Spencer would not be ruined and allowed to languish in the country as a spinster. She had a brawny father and four brothers who would assure her reputation.
Frustrated by his thoughts, Garrett brushed the grass from his jacket, sauntered down the hill and slipped back into the manor. All the other guests had apparently retired for the evening and the only sounds to be heard were of servants clearing up before taking themselves off to bed. He hoped Marcus hadn’t waited for him.
Upon reaching the corridor outside his room, Garrett stopped short. A high keening sound, muffled but unmistakable, drifted into the hallway from Natalie’s room. He paused a moment and took a deep breath. He heard crying…
Surely, she was not still upset? Could his words have hurt her to this extent?
Rubbing a hand over his face, Garrett exhaled slowly. Of course. She’d experienced a devastating rejection earlier this summer, and his toying with her merely piled on to her insecurities. He thought to knock on her door to offer comfort, but reason told him this would surely backfire upon both of them.
The weeping, however, went on and on. It was mournful and oh, so pitiful.
Dragging himself from her door, Garrett entered his own chamber instead. He could not go into her room, could he? Surely her maid attended her?
Marcus had laid out his dressing gown and night shirt but thankfully was not awake to wait upon him in person. Relieved, Garrett tended to his own ablutions and climbed into bed. The barely audible crying tormented him mercilessly. He knew, though, that if he were to go to her room, were to attempt to comfort her and be discovered, there would likely be a great deal more cause to weep. And both of them would be crying then.
He wished the effects of the whiskey he’d consumed earlier hadn’t worn off. That would have at least allowed a semblance of sleep. Diving under the pillow in an attempt to block the pitiful sounds from next door, Garrett didn’t drift off until just before dawn.
Chapter Twelve
When Garrett finally descended the next morning, the sun had long since risen, but his hosts and their guests had yet to vacate the morning room. The countess sat checking items off a list while the earl perused one of London’s broadsheets. Garrett had barely sat down with his plate when Lady Sheffield informed him she had planned a large garden party for that afternoon. Guests from all over had been invited. Glancing out the stately windows, Garrett caught glimpses of servants rushing about with flowers, baskets, and linens. Others busied themselves setting up chairs and tables on the lawn. For a moment, he wondered idly if anyone would notice if he were to duck out of the day’s entertainment. He would not, though. He had made this blasted decision to be amiable.
And there was this particular lady…
He turned away from the spectacle on the lawn and perused the faces at the table. Although most seats were occupied, Lady Natalie was absent. He refused to recognize the twinge he experienced as guilt or disappointment. He’d acted in her own best interest. Surely, someday she’d be grateful to him. And yet…his food now tasted little better than sawdust.
Just as Garrett thought he was going to have to make some sort of conversation, the clatter of a coach arriving outside halted most of the normal breakfast chatter.
If it had been a service vehicle, it would have driven around back. The ancient contraption could only mean additional guests were arriving. Garrett forced himself not to wince visibly. Although he’d been treated graciously thus far, he couldn’t help feeling wary.
Just then the Baroness of Riverton pushed her seat back and rose to her feet quickly. “Oh, it’s Penelope and Abigail! I am so glad to see they are arriving safely.”
Taking his time, the baron stood up beside his wife. Garrett had conversed briefly with Riverton yesterday. Although a quiet, henpecked man, he was a rather affable sort. “My apologies, Lady Ravensdale. You were aware the girls were coming, weren’t you?”
As dawning recollection caught up with the lady of the house, she rose as well. “Oh, yes, Lord Riverton, we discussed it yesterday. With this afternoon’s festivities, I forgot about the girls’ arrival.” Looking around, she added, “I had hoped Natalie would be present to welcome…” Catching a footman’s eye, she said, “Leo, would you please have Tinsdale fetch Lady Natalie?” She addressed the servant graciously. The Spencers were uncommon in the courtesy afforded to their servants. It was something Garrett was coming to appreciate about this unusual titled family.
The earl, at his wife’s nudging, gave up on his newspaper and with something of a scowl, excused himself from the table to welcome the new arrivals. Garrett remained seated and determined to finish drinking his coffee. As did Lady Sheffield beside him. They could watch the flurry of activity through the windows.
After observing the other breakfasters either leave to greet the arriving ladies, or perhaps to their own devices, Lady Sheffield turned her attention to Garrett. She had a curious gleam in her eyes and did not look to be uncomfortable in his presence this morning. He was grateful for this.
“I understand you have saved your mother’s paintings? It is true?” she asked.
Damned if anybody’s business remained private anymore. That being said, it wasn’t often anyone mentioned the late Countess of Hawthorne—if ever. “You had an acquaintance with my mother, Lady Sheffield?” he asked. He would not satisfy her curiosity immediately.
Obviously delighted, Lady Sheffield nodded. “We came out the same season. I was fortunate enough to have been invited to view her artwork at your grandparent’s townhouse that year.” She shook her head mournfully. “My brother, Arthur, attended with me. Shortly after the showing, your father swept her away to the country. Did you manage to save her paintings? It would be such a shame if they perished along with your dreadful father.”
What could he say to this? What could one say when a person referred to one’s father as dreadful? Even if said father was, in fact, dreadful? “I did. They have been safely tucked away upstairs for a few years now.” And then, acknowledging her other statement, he continued, “My father was a dreadful man. I knew they would be in peril if I left them in his care.” Reaching for the pot of coffee, he gestured to her cup. She lifted it, and he poured hot liquid to the rim before refilling his own. “I feared he might destroy the paintings out of spite. They were left specifically to me.”
“Your mother was a very sensitive lady, my lord. I never did fathom how her father could allow such a match.” A flash of sadness crossed her face, but she covered it. “Oh dear me! Such a long time ago, but looking at you
now, it feels as though it were yesterday.” And then she smiled at him in a motherly sort of way, the wrinkles at her eyes creasing deeply. “Your mother did manage to produce a handsome son though! And clever, too, I am discovering.”
Garrett stared at his coffee, a strange lump forming in his throat. God damn this emotion. “If you’d care to see the paintings, I’d be happy to show them to you. I must inspect the crates before travel anyhow. I plan on doing so tomorrow morning, if you’d care to take a peek.” He stared into the dark richness of his coffee, the warm cup cradled in his hands as he made the offer. He hadn’t yet looked at the paintings himself. Knowing the contents of the crates, he’d done his best to ignore them. He’d avoided them, in fact.
Lady Sheffield clasped her hands together in childish delight. “Oh, that would be delightful, and Lady Natalie has expressed an interest in them as well. If you wouldn’t mind, I will bring her along with me.”
Garrett studied her face for indications that she was matchmaking. “If she wishes, I am amenable.”
At that very moment, a tired and drawn Lady Natalie entered the room with a scowl. “If she wishes what?” she asked.
Oh, hell, the night had been worse on her than he’d thought.
Garrett stood and pulled out a chair for her gallantly. “I’ve invited Lady Sheffield to view the paintings left to me by my mother, tomorrow morning. Would you care to join us?” He asked with as much charm as he could muster. He did not like seeing her so defeated. Especially when he was at fault. He would not take all the blame, however. He’d leave some of that to the Duke and Duchess of Cortland.
A spark of interest lit her eyes, along with a fleeting smile. “Oh, that would be lovely, thank you.” She followed her gratitude with a dainty little yawn. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”
Garrett lifted the coffee pot and gestured to her cup. She held it out for him to fill and then added cream and sugar. Forgetting her manners, she relaxed her elbows on the table and took a deep sip of the hot brew.
Garrett studied her. Her eyes were neither red nor swollen. Her hair and dress were as pristine as ever. There was a tiredness to her face, however, no amount of dressing up could cover. As she drank the coffee, she appeared to relax.
“It’s all set then,” Lady Sheffield said. “We’ll examine your mother’s works after breakfast tomorrow morning.” She looked to Natalie for confirmation.
Natalie looked up after a moment. “Oh, yes, of course.” Her mind was elsewhere; Garrett could tell by the distracted tone of her voice.
Lady Sheffield looked from one to the other before standing and excusing herself. “I’ll see you both at this garden party then. Enjoy your breakfast, dears.” And with that, she left the two of them alone together.
Garrett folded his arms across his chest and observed the contrary woman before him. She puzzled him. “You are well this morning?” he asked.
The minx set her coffee down and met Garrett’s unwavering gaze for the first time since entering the room. “Why would I not be? I’m not going to fall into some grand decline merely because you decided I am not worthy of your amorous attentions.”
Ah, the spark was back. But what of the wailing he’d overheard the previous night? Good God, the crying had gone on forever! He’d not realized women could carry on so. He was also more than a little surprised that Lady Natalie would carry on so. She seemed to be made of sterner stuff.
Setting aside any semblance of formality, Garrett rested his elbows upon the table and leaned toward her. “Sweetheart, it has nothing whatsoever to do with you being worthy. Perhaps it is I who am not worthy of burdening you with my, as you say, amorous attentions.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I prefer not to be on the receiving end of your…gallantry! The result is the same.” A shadow crossed her face. She would brazen through what she’d obviously decided had been rejection. In an obvious attempt to dismiss him, she lifted her cup and turned her attention to the window. Outside, a great deal of hugging and unloading of luggage was going on. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I must assist my mother in welcoming our guests.”
She took one last drink of her coffee before slamming, yes, slamming, it down on the linen-covered table and standing abruptly.
Garrett watched her swaying hips as she flounced off, leaving nothing but a hint of perfume behind her. What was it about a woman walking away from him that made him want her all the more?
****
Natalie left the breakfast room before she did anything stupid, like giving in to the strange attraction that constantly compelled her to make a fool of herself over Garrett Castleton. She did not feel like being sociable with Miss Crone and her cousin. Baby Bear hadn’t allowed her more than thirty minutes of sleep at a time throughout the night. Who knew a pup could be so demanding?
In between hourly trips downstairs and outside, Baby Bear protested vehemently about being separated from his mama—that was what Natalie presumed anyhow. For she’d provided every possible luxury a pup could hope for, including all manner of canine snacks, a warm blanket, and one of her favorite slippers for teething. The poor thing had cried long and often.
The lack of sleep left her exhausted. But not so much that she ever considered giving up on Baby Bear. Just the opposite, in fact. Feeling the need to peek in on the little pup, Natalie had a strong urge to return to her chamber. She did not wish to return to find aromatic droppings. Especially after traipsing outside every few hours to prevent just such an occurrence throughout the night.
But her mother would seek her out if she did not welcome the two ladies. And she was not yet ready to share her new pet with her parents. Her father was not one for allowing animals of any kind within the house, and she must show them that the pup could mind his manners.
She first needed to show herself the same.
If it was even possible.
Twisting her mouth into a weary smile, she joined the welcoming party in the front foyer.
Penelope Crone was easily recognizable with her emerald green eyes and blondish red hair twisted into a tight coil behind her head. She was taller and slimmer than Natalie. Some might consider her sticklike, if inclined to be unkind. She strode forward and offered Natalie a sympathetic smile. “My lady, I am so pleased to see you this summer. I have been thinking about you often since the Season ended.” And then came the sympathetic eyes. “How are you?”
Natalie knew the question to be sincere but wished everybody would forget about her broken engagement. Her heart remained fully intact.
Trying not to roll her eyes heavenwards, she responded with equal warmth. “I am well, and you? How was your journey?” Without waiting for an answer, Natalie turned to the lady at Penelope’s side. “This must be your cousin?”
Miss Penelope Crone nodded and introduced the other lady. Miss Abigail Wright could not be more different from her cousin in looks. She was barely five feet tall, curvy and soft-looking with dark hair knotted severely behind her head. She wasn’t plump. She was…voluptuous. She reminded Natalie of some actresses she’d viewed on occasion. Except that she dressed primly and properly—as did Penelope. Not quite spinsterish but not in the lighthearted manner of young debutantes either. No lace, no flounces, not much color.
Natalie’s mother joined them and asked Natalie to show the ladies to their quarters so they might freshen up. As all the regular guest rooms were appropriated already, they were given some of the nicer rooms set aside for servants on the top floor. Lady Ravensdale apologized as Natalie led them away. Two footmen were already carrying their trunks up the long flights of stairs.
Miss Wright climbed the steps beside Natalie, and Penelope followed effortlessly. “I hope our presence is not an inconvenience.” Miss Wright’s entire manner carried her apology. “Even though your mother assured Aunt Emily it was not. My mother was out of sorts with herself for her inability to overcome her injury so she could chaperone us adequately. We both told her it was not necessary, but being conf
ined to her suite, she felt we would be subject to all manner of indiscretions. She has an extensive imagination.”
“A bunch of tripe,” Penelope inserted. “Your mama saw the opportunity to put us in the way of a few bachelors and fabricated the most transparent of excuses.” Miss Penelope Crone, as Natalie already knew, had long ago dispatched with the notion of minding her tongue when she was of an opinion.
Natalie stopped and stared back at the taller girl. Surely they would not be setting their sights on Lord Hawthorne? The thought gave rise to an ugly feeling inside her. “But there are no bachelors here, really.”
At Miss Crone’s dubious raised eyebrows and tilted head, Natalie caught on to who those bachelors were. Not Lord Hawthorne. “My brothers?” Her relief was greater than she ought to have experienced. She had no claim to him. Except for a few kisses…
“You have no need to worry, my lady,” Miss Wright inserted. “They are perfectly safe—as I am sure you can gather on your own.”
Natalie glanced between the two ladies. Contrary to their spinsterish clothing and lack of style, they sparkled with a vibrant energy. Both were far too clever to overlook. In fact, she thought that if either of them, notwithstanding their advanced age, took it into their heads to chase one of her brothers, the outcome would in no way be preordained.
“Nonetheless, I am glad of your company.” She turned and began ascending the stairs again. “As much as I enjoy my mother’s friends, it will be a pleasure to have the companionship of a few ladies closer to me in age.” As she arrived at the landing, she gestured them along. “There is to be a garden party this afternoon; the staff is busy with preparations, but please ask a maid if you have need of anything at all—or if you need directions. The house isn’t massive, but it is possible to get turned around if one isn’t familiar.” Natalie felt guilty for not offering them a tour herself, but she knew Baby Bear might now be awake and restless. To smooth over her lack of hospitality, she added, “I truly am glad to have both of you here.”
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