Reforming Lord Neil: A Regency Romance, Inglewood Book 5

by Britton, Sally

  Then Lady Inglewood turned to face Neil again, retaining her husband’s hand in hers. “I never expected you would apologize, Lord Neil. Please know, I forgave you a very long time ago.”

  “I am not so merciful as my wife.” Inglewood sounded curious, if anything. “Why now, Lord Neil?”

  They deserved to know, Neil supposed. Though he rather wished to have the whole thing over and done with. He meant what he said. He experienced true remorse upon thinking of how he had flirted with Lady Inglewood, had burdened her with his presence. He had never much cared for Inglewood’s part, until he realized the reason behind Inglewood’s anger.

  “I have only recently learned what it means to protect someone.” Neil lowered his eyes to the floor, where an immense rug covered in a swirling pattern of flowers blurred beneath his hard stare. “To care for another enough to stand between them and harm, whether it is the ill-judgment of others or a physical threat. I trespassed upon Lady Inglewood’s kindness, I tried to break the trust between you both, and I did not concern myself if anyone was hurt by my actions.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Lady Inglewood said. When Neil looked up, she wore a wide smile, and her eyes glittered with excitement. “You have at last confirmed my suspicions. You are in love with Mrs. Clapham.”

  Neil said nothing, though he clenched his jaw tight against agreeing with her.

  Lord Inglewood actually chuckled, though there was not much humor in the sound. “Poor woman. Out of one hardship and into another. Whatever could a man like you offer her, Lord Neil?”

  The earl’s disdain made Neil wince.

  “Silas,” his wife said sharply, a reprimand in the name.

  Raising a hand to forestall her protests, Neil looked Inglewood directly in the eye. “I know I am not worthy of her, and she has made it clear she is uninterested in anything outside of our friendship. I intend to remain near her—as a friend—so long as she may have need of me. I have been a pair of hands to work her farm. That is all I will continue to be.”

  With the shrug of one shoulder, Inglewood took out a pocket watch. “It is nearly time for dinner. I suggest we leave the subject for now. Though I will say”—the earl walked toward Neil, causing him to tense—“I am surprised by your apology. I have seen your behavior shift these past two years and accepted your part in my brother-in-law’s happiness with some reluctance. Perhaps I will reconsider my opinion of you.”

  Neil nodded once. “I understand.”

  Lady Inglewood approached, her hands folded before her. “Thank you for speaking with us, Lord Neil. We will see you at dinner.” She took her husband’s arm and they left the room.

  Neil did not immediately follow. Inglewood’s cold question reverberated in his thoughts. Whatever could a man like you offer her…? Nothing. Neil was poorer than Teresa had ever been, even with his banknotes in his pocket.

  He went to the window, made certain no one lingered upon the street to watch the house, then went to his room.

  Having never offered an apology of such magnitude before, Neil could not be certain he had done the thing correctly. But despite the earl’s lukewarm response, a weight had lifted from Neil’s chest at last.

  He had done the right thing. Perhaps he could at last make a habit of that.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The court proceedings were not at all what Teresa expected. Not that she had any prior experience to base such things upon, but she had thought to witness more of an argument from her brother-in-law’s solicitor. But given that the man was taken to task by a barrister who seemed on good terms with both Lord Inglewood and the judge, and that he had an entire pile of documents to support the claims of what the solicitor and Mr. Clapham had done to Teresa, there seemed little anyone could say in their defense.

  Neil had sat beside her the entire time, his steady presence a true comfort to her. He had surprised her that morning, meeting her at breakfast wearing new clothing. Though a closer inspection of his coat revealed it had not been tailored perfectly to him, he had appeared handsome and gentlemanly, and his perfect behavior marked him as a man of rank. She felt rather like a plain country mouse beside him. She wore her second-best dress. It was gray, and had been a mourning gown she wore with a black lace collar. Without the collar, it was still a somber gown. But the color would remind anyone present that she was a suffering widow.

  If she had not been distracted by what she knew she had to face that day, Teresa would have spent more time wondering over Neil’s change in clothing. When had he procured new clothing?

  In the courtroom, her mind was fully taken up by the presented facts. Two hours of discussion, of details, and statements made by all concerned, at last led to the judge’s quiet contemplation.

  The judge leaned back some in his chair and mused aloud. “I am not usually in this courtroom. It is more common for a magistrate to sit in this chair and make decisions upon the cases presented. I cannot see how any man could listen to this, however, as I have today, and rule any differently than I am about to rule.”

  Teresa held her breath and reached for Neil’s hand upon the bench between them. He turned his hand palm up, lacing his fingers through hers. The confidence she gained from that simple contact made her lift her chin when the judge pointed at her.

  “This woman lost her husband to a tragic accident, but it was the intention of two dishonorable men to assassinate the dead man’s character. At last we may restore the name of Henry Clapham as a man of integrity and compassion. He did not leave his wife and child destitute. But God help the men who would have done so. Mr. Frederick Clapham, by the authority of the Crown and our laws, I hereby sentence you as guilty of all accusations against you this day. You will make restitution to your sister-in-law.” The judge named the amount, and Teresa covered her mouth in shock. It was her full portion, and more for Caroline’s future. “You must pay half immediately, the rest no later than a year and one day from today.”

  Then the judge looked to Teresa, his eyes softening. “Mrs. Clapham, I only wish the law would allow me to give you the whole of your late husband’s fortune. But rest assured, if this man does not do as ordered by the court, I will strip him of everything he has.”

  Teresa’s eyes filled with grateful tears. “Thank you, your honor.”

  The judge went on to deliver a harsher judgment to the solicitor. The man had to pay restitution to the Crown, and was stripped of his right to practice law.

  By the time they left the courtroom, and walked beneath the large stone arch of the fortress-like courthouse of St. Helen’s Street, Teresa’s conflicting emotions overwhelmed her. Her eyes swam with tears, and her knees weakened.

  “That was most incredible,” Lady Inglewood said, coming to take Teresa’s arm. She guided Teresa forward to the carriage, away from Neil. “I knew it would be so.”

  Teresa shook her head, somewhat woodenly. “I did not even hope for so much. But yes. This is such a miracle. Everything in my life will change.”

  She wanted to look back, to see Neil’s face again. But he walked with head bowed, not looking at her. He had remained calm throughout the proceedings, allowing Teresa to do the same. Without him, out in the air at last, her mind and heart raced with all the new possibilities before her.

  They climbed into the carriage with the assistance of a groom, then Lord Inglewood came in and sat across from his wife. He was smiling, almost in a self-satisfied way. “Congratulations, Mrs. Clapham. Justice has been served this day.”

  Neil entered and took his seat, folding his arms across his chest. He met her eyes, offered one quick wink, then turned his attention to the window. He appeared much more somber than she expected, given that victory was theirs. Or, she supposed, hers.

  “I thank you, Lord Inglewood, Lady Inglewood, for all your help and support. I cannot understand how it all came to pass, but I know I would never have had the courage to take Mr. Clapham to court without you. And it all has happened so quickly.”

  “Tha
t is what happens when you know the right people,” Neil murmured.

  “Thank you, Lord Neil,” Teresa said quickly, then laughed when he cocked his eyebrows up at her. “It is knowing you that started all of this. You saved my family.”

  He gave only the slightest nod, hardly a real movement of his head, and then turned back to stare out the window.

  Though Teresa had thought his silence comforting before, undemanding even, it struck her differently in the carriage. With the villain defeated, the hero’s reserve confused her. Lady Inglewood gave Teresa’s arm a gentle pat, drawing her attention away from the somber man in the corner.

  “What will you do now, Mrs. Clapham? Your circumstances have certainly changed drastically. You could likely afford to let a small house in a larger town, if you wish. Procure a few servants. Your daughter, Miss Caroline, may go away to school.”

  Teresa attempted to avoid that question. “I had not thought quite that far.” But Neil’s gaze abruptly swung back to her, the slightest downturn to his lips. Bother, could he read her so easily? She had thought of it. A great deal. But she doubted people of the earl and countess’s status would understand what she had begun to plan for herself and her family.

  “There is time to sort all of that out later.” The earl sounded amused, but whether it was with her answer or his wife’s enthusiasm, Teresa could not be certain. “Mrs. Clapham, if you determine to seek out a house in town, I hope you will contact me. My man of business in Ipswich, and my assistant in London, would be at your service to ensure you found exactly what you sought.”

  The offer was kind, and had to be sincere given the reputation of the man before her. “Thank you, my lord. I will keep that in mind, of course.”

  Neil had turned to the window again, and the carriage stopped before the house.

  “My brother and his wife will be here for dinner this evening.” Lady Inglewood appeared enthusiastic at that news. “I had a note this morning, but I did not think you wished to be distracted from the matter at hand.”

  “I look forward to meeting them at last.” Teresa had been told the brother, Sir Isaac, had helped sort matters out before the Earl of Inglewood arrived, then he had returned to the seaside with his wife to continue their wedding trip.

  The door to the carriage opened, and Neil stepped out first. He extended his hand to help Lady Inglewood down, and then he did the same for Teresa. The moment their gloved hands touched, he met her eyes with his. He appeared most handsome in his new coat and cravat, with his hair shining in the afternoon sun.

  Her heart turned over. Warmth flooded her from head to toe. She had to stop reacting that way, or so she told herself as her foot landed upon the pavement. Lady Inglewood linked her arm with Teresa’s and swept her up the steps to the house, chatting about dinner that evening. Before they slipped into the house, Teresa looked over her shoulder to where Neil remained standing, Lord Inglewood at his side. Neil watched Teresa, but Lord Inglewood stared thoughtfully at the marquess’s son.

  Teresa had apparently agreed to sit with Lady Inglewood in an upstairs parlor, without realizing it, as that was where they went directly after removing their bonnets and gloves. She could not remember when the suggestion had been made, but she settled into a chair with a weary sigh.

  “Mrs. Clapham, I am absolutely wild with my happiness for you.” The countess rang for a servant, then collapsed in her chair with something less than ladylike grace. “But goodness, were you not agitated all the morning long?”

  Thinking of Neil’s hand in hers, Teresa managed to smile at that question. “Not as much as I should have been, most likely. But at my age, and with all I have been through, I have learned to be still when nothing I say or do can change the outcome. Though I can promise you that I am quite relieved it is over.”

  “At your age. You speak as though you are one of those old ladies who chaperone their great-nieces in London.” The countess turned her attention to the door as a servant entered. “Will you please bring us tea? And send the nursery maid in with my son.”

  “I will be one and thirty this winter,” Teresa murmured, smoothing the skirt of her second-best dress. She would wear her best gown that evening, to dinner, in celebration of all she had won.

  Lady Inglewood shrugged and waved her hand in the air before her. “That is not old, Mrs. Clapham. You are young still. There is much ahead of you, too, that you can yet accomplish. How wonderful, truly, for you.”

  “While I am most grateful for the return of my funds, I will freely confess that the best thing to have come out of all of this is knowing that Henry did not leave me poor, or lie to me about gambling.” His memory had been restored to her with nothing to cloud it, no dark shadows to the brightness that had been his love for her. “I can remember him as he deserves to be remembered, and Caroline need never be ashamed of her father.”

  Expression and tone both softened as Lady Inglewood spoke. “You loved him very much, I can tell. Love is all too rare. I am glad you may now treasure yours again.”

  “As am I.” Teresa’s heart further softened, the emotions of the moment threatening to overcome her. She needed to change the subject, quickly. “You love your husband very much, do you not?” How had Neil ever thought the woman did not adore the earl?

  “I do.” Lady Inglewood’s eyes brightened. “I am quite fortunate. We did not begin that way.”

  Teresa tipped back in some surprise. “You did not?”

  “No. Ours was a marriage of convenience.” A knock on the door halted the lady’s explanation, and she rose when a young servant entered holding a delightful little baby, perhaps four or five months old. “There is my little love. Thank you, Matilda.”

  The nursemaid curtsied, then scampered out the door, likely delighted to have time to herself.

  When the countess sat down again, cooing to her son, she returned to the conversation. “Silas and I grew up together. He and my brother are dear friends. But I barely knew him and had never entertained any romantic notions about him. When we married, I determined to be a good wife to him. Love came after. As did little Isaac.” She kissed her son’s brow.

  Teresa smiled to herself, her thoughts turning to a black-haired baby girl. “I remember when Caroline was that tiny. They grow so quickly. I wish I had spent hours more simply holding her close before she grew. You have seen her—she is nearly my height now.”

  “I was taller than my mother by the time I was fourteen.” Lady Inglewood laughed and held her son closer. “You are young yet, Mrs. Clapham. Have you given thought to marrying again? You might have more children, should you wish.”

  More children. Warmth spread through Teresa’s heart. No other children had come after Caroline. No miscarriages or stillbirths. Her doctor had not known what to make of it, though he suggested once it was Henry and not her to blame, as everything seemed perfectly normal. She had never discussed the matter with her husband, as he had declared himself happy enough over Caroline to need no more in their nursery. She had counted her blessings and agreed.

  But whether she was capable of filling a new nursery, Teresa could not think on marriage easily. Because when she even briefly entertained the thought, only one man came to mind. But she was not a worthy match for the son of a marquess, whether Neil was in favor with his father or not.

  “I cannot think so far into the future.” Teresa watched the baby take up his mother’s hand and attempt to chew on her finger. “I must go home and sort matters out there, then I may begin to plan.”

  “That seems sensible. Although, if you do not mind me speaking somewhat out of turn, I believe there is at least one man highly invested in your decision.” The sparkle in the countess’s eyes, accompanied by her sly smile, left no doubt as to who or what she meant. Teresa’s face warmed, but before she could protest, the door opened again admitting a footman and maid with trays of tea and refreshment.

  When the servants left, the countess changed the subject entirely to speaking of her family. Teresa
relaxed now that she was no longer the topic of choice, and she participated with great interest.

  No matter what the countess said, or how much Teresa felt toward Neil, she could not allow herself to speculate on a future with him. His family, his responsibility to them, must come first. And they would never approve of Neil lowering himself to a marriage with one such as she. Even with her case won, the funds at her disposal did not elevate her enough to consider wedding the son of a marquess.

  Neil had stated, quite clearly, that he would stay in her life until his family allowed him back into theirs. Asking him to risk the relationships of his family for her would cause still more damage. She would not expect more of him.

  Even if she had fallen in love with him.

  * * *

  Neil waited in the parlor with Sir Isaac and Lady Fox for their hosts. And Teresa. She had not yet appeared for dinner, either. But the wait was not entirely unpleasant, given that Lady Fox had an especially entertaining wit. The woman was cleverer than most, and she kept the gentlemen entertained by recounting a story about stumbling upon a goat in one of her rambles in the country.

  “But enough of my nonsense,” she said after finishing the story amid their laughter. “I need to learn more about you, Lord Neil. We have not seen each other in weeks and weeks, of course, but you strike me as much altered since the house party where we met.”

  Sir Isaac tucked his one arm around his wife’s shoulder, as casually as if it was a common thing for a man to show such affection in public. “I must agree with my wife’s observation. You are decidedly tan.”

  Neil glowered at the baronet, but his lady laughed. “I did not mean his complexion, Isaac. I meant his manner. Lord Neil often makes a show of being so relaxed he cannot even bother with proper posture. But look at him now, all stiff and correct, as though he waits for an audience with the king.”

  As he had no intention of feeding the woman’s curiosity, Neil only shrugged and adjusted the ends of his cuffs. He rather missed his clothing being made to actually fit him, rather than making do with something sewn to someone else’s specifications. “It has been a trying day.”