Reforming Lord Neil: A Regency Romance, Inglewood Book 5

by Britton, Sally

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Everything Neil possessed was in his satchel, and it amused him. Never in his life would he have called himself poor. But now… Now he owned but two shirts. He wore the same one he had when the Earl of Inglewood had shown up, the other had been too dirty, but he hoped to have it washed at an inn. His work boots were on his feet and the shoes he had worn when cast out of his father’s home were in the bag. As was his dinner jacket, ruined gloves, and crumpled cravat. His hat was on his lap. Truthfully, Teresa appeared far more like a lady sitting on the seat next to the countess than Neil looked like a gentleman.

  But then, she always appeared lovely to him.

  When she looked up and met his gaze, she smiled. The warmth in the expression went right to his heart.

  He shifted and dropped his eyes. She had told him clearly enough, several times over, that they could not be anything more than friends. At last, he began to realize why.

  Lady Inglewood had a husband, of course, but had still treated him kindly when his wooing of her had failed. He had decided she behaved that way to be morally superior, and her friendship was valuable given her place in Society. Lady Fox, whom he had first known as Miss Millicent Wedgewood, had been too young to be of interest to him. Yet she had offered her friendship when he’d performed a few small kindnesses for her.

  Something about him apparently made it quite easy to make friends with ladies but never attain anything more. Perhaps because his sister, Olivia, had been his only companion for years.

  Lady Inglewood had engaged Teresa in conversation for most of their trip. Neil had said almost nothing, and Lord Inglewood had pretended that Neil was not even in the seat directly next to him.

  Were it not for Teresa, Neil might have enjoyed antagonizing the earl throughout the journey. But he owed the other noble his good will, and more, for assisting Teresa to such an extent.

  There remained two hours of road between them and Ipswich when the sun began to disappear in the west.

  “We will have to stop at an inn for the night,” Lord Inglewood announced. “There is a large old house in the next village that has been converted into an inn. I have had occasion to stay there before. It will be suitable enough for us.”

  Teresa fiddled with her gloves. “Thank you, my lord, for thinking of such things.”

  Neil folded his arms and glowered out the window. It was childish of him, he knew. But why couldn’t Neil have done more for her? Not that he wished for Teresa’s gratitude. Merely her attention.

  I am a complete idiot. He sighed with the thought.

  When the carriage stopped, Lord Inglewood climbed out first and then held his hand out first to his wife, then to Teresa. Neil followed, satchel in hand. Teresa put her arm through his as soon as he stepped onto the ground. He looked down at her, raising his eyebrows.

  “Are you cross with me?” she asked softly, her eyebrows drawn together. “I did not realize it at first, but Lady Inglewood is the woman you had a tenderness for, is she not? Riding in that carriage all these hours—I hope it did not cause you pain.”

  After assuring himself that the earl and countess were too far ahead to overhear, Neil bent his head to whisper his response. “It was an idle flirtation, Teresa. My heart was not at stake when she spurned my advances. I am not upset with you, or with them. But Lord Inglewood and I have never been friends, and things were only made more complicated by my indiscretion. It was easier to remain quiet today than to risk his irritation. As he is currently assisting you, I would rather not remind him that I am involved at all.”

  Teresa smiled, then pressed her lips together as though to try to hide it. “I really should not be amused by what you did to earn his ire. It was wrong of you.”

  He prepared a flippant statement, ready to make light of the situation, but Teresa had already faced forward again. They entered the old house, now an inn. The innkeeper, a rather rotund fellow with a cheery smile, was speaking to the earl.

  “Ah, we have three rooms available at present.” He looked over at Neil and Teresa, then back to the earl. “I am afraid not enough for the gentlemen and ladies to each have their own. Perhaps only the two rooms?”

  Teresa’s cheeks turned red and her lips parted, but Inglewood was already explaining.

  “My wife and I will take one room, but I will need the other two for Lord Neil Duncan and Mrs. Clapham.”

  How strange. His stomach tightened, then warmed as he thought on what it would mean to claim Teresa as his wife. In an instant, he found he could imagine how it would be to introduce her at an inn, to keep her by his side. He swallowed, and when he looked again at her blush, he realized the worst of it.

  He wanted to claim her. Not as a friend, or a brief infatuation. But as they followed the innkeeper up the stairs of what had once been a manor house, Neil’s eyes upon the way Lord and Lady Inglewood spoke to one another, then disappeared into a room together, it was like a cog clicked into place in his mind.

  They came to the first floor and turned down a hall without Neil really taking anything in.

  If anyone ever dared to trifle with Teresa’s feelings, Neil would call the fellow out. As much as he abhorred violence, nothing would stop him from taking such a scoundrel to task for so much as daring to take advantage of her.

  Why hadn’t the Earl of Inglewood given Neil a facer when he realized what Neil had been attempting with the countess? Neil had deserved that and worse.

  Teresa released Neil’s arm, stepping into the room the innkeeper had given to her, key in hand. She had a cheerful light in her eye, but it dimmed when she looked up at him. “Neil, is something amiss? You look upset.”

  He shook himself free of his thoughts. How had things changed so drastically from the moment they entered the building to now? Not more than five minutes had passed, and yet his perspective had altered severely. He stared at her, then looked to where the innkeeper stood down the hall at another door, waiting.

  “Teresa.” He picked up her hand, holding it in both of his. “You were right. What you said, downstairs.”

  She appeared puzzled. He sighed and released her hand.

  “I will explain later.”

  He withdrew, leaving her to watch as he went down the hall to his own room.

  It looked as though the room had once been larger, divided by the wall between him and Teresa. He had a window, a decently sized bed, and a chest at his disposal. There was a small table and chair, too. Neil went to the window and leaned his forehead upon the glass.

  What had happened to him? The more he thought of his last several weeks, even stretching his mind back further, he began to see his life differently.

  The year previous, he had been in an accident with Olivia. Their phaeton had overturned. Olivia had shrieked and carried on over the accident, blaming the other party—a pair of sisters—and declaring it was an insult to the family. He had broken his arm, yet his reaction had been different. He was only relieved that all four of the people involved had walked away from the accident alive.

  Neil lowered himself to the chair, scrubbing his hands through his hair. That had marked the start of his change. It must have. He had not entered into any flirtations, any relationships at all, with another woman since then. Instead, he had done a great deal of thinking. For a time, he had even considered pursuing a career. But at his age, was it not too late to attempt gaining employment through the law?

  Life had started to feel stagnant. Olivia’s petty feuds with social rivals had once amused him, but he found himself caring less and less about them, until she had dragged Miss Wedgewood into a dangerous situation mere months before.

  Underscoring everything had been a deep dissatisfaction with his family and their way of living.

  He looked down at his boots, his trousers, not at all suitable for a gentleman, much less the son of a marquess.

  But he wasn’t a son of the Marquess of Alderton. The old devil’s blood did not run in Neil’s veins. Or Olivia’s, for that matt
er. But was blood alone to account for his change of heart and mind?

  Then there was Teresa. Beautiful, warm, and compassionate woman that she was, she had given him a chance without caring about his family or history. And that had changed everything for good. He need not act, nor uphold any sort of reputation for her. Neil only had to work hard, a thing which he had not done since earning disciplinary chores for his delinquency.

  Work hard, which he had surprisingly enjoyed, and then be true to himself.

  Neil rose and took up his satchel. He took out all his fine clothing, then left his room in search of the innkeeper. He would have his things washed and brushed, pressed, and returned to him. The fine coat he had worn to dinner long ago would not do, nor would the ruined gloves, but the trousers and a clean shirt, a pressed cravat, would help.

  Teresa deserved his best. His best character, his best effort, and everything else.

  Though she would not have him, not as he wished, Neil was her friend and her defender.

  Neil had given her his heart, whether she knew it or not.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ipswich, though not nearly so large as London, had enough people and carriages to cause crowding. Teresa had not been to a town so large since moving out to Bramble Cottage. She peered out the window of the carriage with interest, and a knot of nerves in her stomach.

  “Rest easy, Mrs. Clapham,” the countess said. Teresa turned from the window to meet the other woman’s eyes. She was so young, and so certain of her place in the world. Teresa almost envied her. “Tomorrow, we will appear before the court. Today, you may do as you please. If you wish to spend the whole of it in bed at the house, you may.” They had apparently received permission to stay at a friend’s house in Ipswich while the friend was away in the country.

  Neil said nothing, the same as the day previous in the carriage. Never would Teresa have guessed him to be able to sit silent for so long. Not that he spoke excessively, but he did enjoy conversation, and she rather missed it.

  “Thank you. Perhaps I will take a walk. The exercise may help to settle my thoughts.” Teresa stole another look at Neil, but noticed the earl looking in the same direction with a frown.

  The two of them truly did not care for one another.

  “I think that a marvelous idea. I would offer to join you, but I have missed my son. I intend to spend the afternoon doting upon him.” Lady Inglewood smiled wistfully. “I have never been much apart from my child. Leaving him in the care of only his nurse for even a night was too long.” The countess smiled somewhat apologetically.

  Teresa well remembered what that was like. Removing herself from Caroline had always been difficult. But when she next saw her daughter, it would be with a change in their fortunes. Or so she hoped.

  The carriage stopped at a modest townhome; snuggled as it was between its neighbors, Teresa was surprised when they entered the foyer to find it most elegantly furnished on the inside.

  “To whom does this house belong?” she asked, looking at the silver and gold wallpaper.

  “It is the property of the Countess of Chilton,” Lord Inglewood said. “She is my godmother, and has always allowed me to use this residence. She much prefers her rented house in Bath to anywhere else.”

  Indeed, the servants waited upon Lord and Lady Inglewood with absolute deference. A maid was immediately assigned to attend to Teresa.

  By the time Teresa had seen to her things, and tidied herself up, her agitation had only grown. A walk was most necessary, given that there were no weeds to pull to work out her anxieties. Strange, she had never thought how grateful she was to have something to do with her hands when agitated. If she even attempted one of her old pursuits, such as sewing a sampler, she might well stab herself with the needle in her vigor.

  Descending the stairs, Teresa saw Neil sitting upon a chair in the foyer, a news sheet in his hands. When her foot landed upon the ground floor tile, he looked up. Instantly upon his feet, he dropped the paper upon the chair and came to her side.

  “I thought I might escort you on your walk.” He bowed deeply, and she stood a moment to take him in. Cravat. Shirt. Waistcoat. Coat. Everything was spotless, well-pressed, and made him appear more a gentleman than he had thus far. He was clean-shaven again, too. His hair even appeared to have been trimmed, and a golden lock of it had fallen artfully across his forehead.

  “I would enjoy that.” She took his arm. “Perhaps we could wander in the direction of some of the shops. I would like to find a gift for Caroline.”

  Neil accepted his hat from the footman near the door, then the two of them went out onto the walkway. Neil instantly put himself between her and the street, his eyes alert and taking in the people passing by.

  “Are you looking for someone?” Teresa asked.

  He glanced at her, then resumed his visual sweep of the road. “Your brother-in-law, actually. He did not strike me as an honorable man, and now that we have evidence to support my initial assessment of his character, I fear he might attempt to dissuade you from appearing in court tomorrow.”

  A stab of worry struck her heart. “I cannot imagine Frederick doing more than trying to talk me out of the whole thing. But it sounds as though you are concerned for my physical well-being.”

  “I am.” Neil drew her a little closer to guide her around a puddle, but he kept her there. “Even though I think him a coward, given our interactions, he stands to lose a great deal tomorrow. The money he stole, of course, and his reputation. Though his house, lands, and everything wrapped up in the entailment will still be his, no one will ever look at him the same again. If he is already in Ipswich, he and that solicitor are likely trying to determine how to save themselves.”

  They fell silent until they turned a corner that brought them to a street full of shops. They passed a bookseller, a stationary printer, glove maker, and then a shop of sundries for ladies. There, Teresa went inside. Neil followed her but remained near the door while she spoke to the young woman behind the counter.

  In a few minutes, Teresa left with a brown packet of buttons and ribbons, new needles, and thimbles. While not the most decadent of purchases, Caroline would love the opportunity to sew a new dress and embellish the older ones with new embroidery.

  Even if Teresa won the judge’s approval, and what remained of her money, she did not think it would be enough to take them from their life at the farm. She would not count upon it, as that seemed the wisest course.

  Neil did not take her down the street very far before pointing out a jeweler’s shop. “Would you mind terribly stepping inside with me for a moment?” he asked.

  “What business do you have in there?” Teresa gave him a crooked smile. “Have you a pressing need for a stickpin to go with your cravat?”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly. “An emerald, as large as your thumbnail, to bring out the color of my eyes.”

  She laughed and followed him inside, grateful for the moment of levity. This time, she remained by the door to give him privacy. From where she stood, looking about at the glass cases full of sparkling gems, the shop was a fine one. A very large man stood near her, ostensibly ignoring her, but she would wager he did a fine job of keeping would-be thieves from wandering in.

  When Neil rejoined her, he was tucking a piece of paper into his coat. “There we are. I am to return in two hours.”

  “Are you?” Teresa searched his face for any clues as to why, but he only gave her a mysterious smile and lift of his eyebrows. “Is it a very great secret that brings you here?”

  “A very great one, indeed.” He took her hand and tucked it through his arm again. “Where else would you like to go, my dear?”

  The endearment made her heart skip. “I have nothing else pressing to attend to. There is a park, I think, near the house where we are staying. Perhaps we can take a turn through there before we return home.”

  They crossed the street, so as to look through the shop windows there on their return. Neil stopped to show h
er a curiously worked mantel clock in one window, and she paused before a very elaborate display of hats.

  “I would never wear anything that large.” She pointed to a hat which appeared to have a miniature boat upon it.

  “Perhaps you would, if you were the wife of an admiral,” Neil said. Then he made a show of looking from her to the hat and back again. He shook his head. “No, you are right. Even the admiralty could not justify such a thing. Your features are too delicate to be overwhelmed by such extravagance. You would need a topper that did not draw attention away from your lovely face.”

  Teresa laughed at his flattery and continued walking. “Really, Neil. Now your compliments grow extravagant.”

  “Do they? I cannot think that I have said anything I did not mean.” He grinned at her, then cleared his throat. “But I will desist, as it seems to make you uncomfortable. Ah. The park.”

  They went down the path lined with stone pavers. The park was not even so large as her vegetable garden, but it had a few trees and flowers, and it was a pleasant enough patch of greenery. As they walked, Teresa felt the tension leave her shoulders and neck. She relaxed and held her packet loosely to her chest.

  “This is all happening so quickly.”

  Neil nodded at her side. “Yesterday morning, you milked your cow. I repaired a broken slat in the wagon. There was a whole list of things to do before dinner.”

  “And none of the things on that list included a visit from nobility or a trip to Ipswich.” Teresa paused beneath a large chestnut tree and pointed to the bench beneath it. “Might we sit a moment?”

  “As you wish.” Neil walked to the bench and sat down beside her, stretching his long legs out before himself. He crossed his arms over his chest and kept his eyes upon the path.

  Teresa watched him, taking in his profile with interest. The man rather reminded her, in that moment, of an especially vigilant shepherd dog. Watchful, calm, but quite ready to raise his hackles and growl if anyone so much as glanced at her. Though no threat was likely to appear, having Neil’s protection set her at ease.