“I think we might all say the same.” She squeezed his hand. “From what you have said about your life before, even about your history with Lord and Lady Inglewood, I have a very difficult time imagining such a man. That man sounds like an absolute scoundrel. You, my wonderful friend, have only a little of the scoundrel in you.”
Neil ducked his head, looking down at their joined hands rather than her gentle gray eyes. “You tease me.”
“Yes.” She sounded amused. “Do you object?”
“No. I rather like it.”
A knock on the door meant releasing her, and he called for the person to enter. A maid came in, wearing a clean apron and bearing a tea tray. The innkeeper came behind her with sandwiches and cakes upon a platter. After the man assured Neil that the coachmen were attended to, he left, closing the door behind them.
“Why is it that traveling always makes one hungry?” Teresa asked, pouring tea for both of them. She prepared his cup perfectly, then passed it to him upon a saucer. “I feel I could eat all these cakes myself.”
With so simple an interruption, the entire tone of the conversation had changed. Leaving Neil to wonder if he had lost his chance. Or if he had ever had one to begin with.
Chapter Twenty-Six
September slipped into October, and Neil was no nearer an answer for his future than before. He had a routine that kept him busy. Every day for the last week, since returning from Ipswich, he woke up at dawn and fed the animals. He cleaned the barn. Listened to Caroline speak French while he worked and she played with Muse and the kitten. The dog had finally grown comfortable enough to bark in her play, and chase her tail from time to time to make Caroline giggle.
One evening, he sat at the table after Caroline had gone to bed. Mrs. Godwin and Teresa had a notebook between them.
“This coming winter will not be terrible, even if we did not have your funds,” Mrs. Godwin said to her daughter. “There are enough stores put aside for food, the roof is repaired, and Mr. Duncan has the barn nearly ready. We only need to purchase our hay and grains for Abigail and Dragon.” Caroline had finally named the horse, during Neil and her mother’s absence. He hadn’t objected to the naming at all, though it smarted him to think of removing the christened animal from the little girl’s sphere.
“The first payment will arrive next week, according to the letter from Lord Inglewood’s solicitor.” Teresa made a notation in her book. “But I agree. Winter is not so frightening as it was a few months ago.” She looked up at Neil, catching his eye and smiling warmly. “Thanks to our wonderful laborer.”
He chuckled and looked down into his cup of cider. “I am grateful my inexperienced work has been enough.”
“You have been a blessing,” Mrs. Godwin said firmly. “With winter coming, however, things must change. I spoke to Teresa of some rather important news this afternoon.” Mrs. Godwin looked to her daughter, and Neil saw Teresa’s smile broaden, almost unnaturally wide. Whatever the news was, Teresa was pretending more happiness about it than she felt.
“What needs to change?” Neil asked. Perhaps she spoke of his sleeping arrangements. The barn would not be too cold, though he would certainly need more blankets.
“Mother is to be married,” Teresa said, grasping her mother’s hand. She kept her eyes lowered to the table. “The vicar will read the banns himself, this coming Sunday.”
Neil relaxed. Was that all? “Congratulations are in order, Mrs. Godwin. I am happy for you.”
The older woman smiled, her beauty still apparent despite her age. Perhaps, one day, Teresa would look like her. All handsome maturity and gentleness.
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan. He has asked several times, but I did not think Teresa could do without me. Now that her finances will be in order, she can afford more help, and the vicarage is not far. Mr. Carter and I will be most happy.”
“I wish I had known I stood between you all this time,” Teresa said quietly.
“It is not a child’s place to know the sacrifices a parent makes, my dear.” Mrs. Godwin stood and kissed Teresa’s forehead. Neil came to his feet, ready to excuse himself for the evening. But Mrs. Godwin stopped him with a gesture. “This change in our family will have an effect upon you, Mr. Duncan.” Despite knowing his title, Mrs. Godwin and Caroline continued to call him by the name he had first given them. “You and my daughter need to talk. Good night, both of you.”
Neil watched her go, then looked down at Teresa’s bowed head with curiosity. Slowly, he lowered himself back into his chair. “Teresa? Are you upset by your mother’s news?”
“No.” She laughed, but it was a tearful sound. When she raised her head he could see the shine in her eyes. “I am pleased for her. I truly am. She has given up so much for me, and for Caroline. She has lowered herself to work she had never done before in her life. Cooking, laundry, scrubbing floors. I could not have done all I have without her.” She took in a shuddering breath, then started searching her person.
Neil took a clean handkerchief, purchased in Ipswich, from his pocket and held it across the table to her.
“Thank you.” She accepted the cloth and dabbed at her eyes. “But it does change things. I intend to hire a cook, and a girl-of-all-work to help in the cottage. But they will be from nearby farms. They will not stay here overnight. Which means that you cannot stay. Not even in the barn.” Her liquid-silver eyes looked mournful.
“Teresa.” Neil chuckled and reached out for her. “I will take a room somewhere, then. I can pay a little for board.”
“You would be paying for a room,” Teresa said slowly, “in order to come and work at my farm without payment. That makes no sense at all.”
Although she was right, of course, Neil forced himself to sound perfectly at ease. He had not expected to leave her yet. It felt too soon. “It makes perfect sense to me, because that is what I want to do.”
She shook her head. “But Neil—”
“I promised I would help.”
“I can hire someone else—”
“Do you want me to leave?” Though he spoke quietly, Teresa winced. “If you want me to go, Teresa, then you have only to tell me so.” Neil ran his hands through his hair, lowering his gaze to the table. He had not meant to sound abrupt and peevish. Yet his frustration had goaded him.
Silence hung between them for a long moment. What must she think of him? Of course she wanted him to leave. She no longer needed him. No one had ever needed him, not really. It had been wonderful while it lasted, more so because of her.
“Teresa,” he said quietly, treasuring her name upon his lips. “I will leave. Though I must tell you, I would rather stay here. With you.” He looked up at last, though it had taken all his bravery to say that much. He, who had never struggled with a turn of phrase, to speak words that could cut or praise a person as he saw fit. What had happened to that eloquence?
When her gaze met his, steady and soft, he knew at once that he was lost.
“Your family will relent, Neil. Eventually, the marquess will relent.” Teresa fidgeted with the handkerchief, but kept her eyes upon his. The soft glow of the lamp made shadows dance around them, transforming the familiar kitchen into something different. Something special. “The son of a marquess cannot want a woman farmer.”
“I am not the marquess’s son. Not by blood, and I believe I can safely say he will never welcome me back. What woman would want a man as useless and poor as I am? It is you who outrank me, love.” The last word came out choked, almost entirely withheld. But her lips parted and a light came into her eyes.
She bit her lip and looked down at the table, a dozen emotions appearing and disappearing on her beautiful face. “Neil. I could never—. You must know. I do not think of you that way. You have given me so much. You are dearer to me than I can possibly say.”
His heart sped up. Perhaps she was only being kind. Yet there was nothing left to lose. Nothing for him, at least. He must speak, or leave in three weeks’ time.
Neil rose slowly, so as not to star
tle her, then came around the table to her side. He knelt upon the floor and gathered up her hands between his. “Teresa. My dear, my darling, my love. I want you, forever and always. Were I the son of a duke, or a fishmonger, or anything else, I would want you.” Her eyes brightened, though a tear slipped down her cheek. Neil could not help smiling through the tremble in his own words. “Though I am not worthy of your kindness and patience, I would beg you to be my wife. I can offer you nothing. Not a title, not a fortune. Only my heart. Please. Tell me it is enough.”
“Neil.” She shivered and shook her head. “Neil, I cannot—your family—”
“I do not care about the marquess.” Neil kissed her fingertips, his heart aching for her answer. “I care about you. I want you, and Caroline, to be my family. If you will have me. If I am enough.” He had never been enough. Not as a son, a brother, a friend. No one had wanted him. But his love for her gave him hope.
At last, she smiled. And laughed. The sound was like music to him, as beautiful as when she sang as she worked. “Enough? Neil, you are everything to me.”
“I love you.” He had never expected to speak those words aloud. Not to anyone. Love was for fools, for people too poor to know there were other ways of finding pleasure in life. Or so he had thought, before he found the richness in loving Teresa.
She put one hand upon his cheek. “I love you, Neil.”
He stood, bringing her to her feet only to sweep her off of them, holding her close as he kissed her. She loved him. He need never doubt anything again. Somehow, despite everything that made him unworthy of love, he had found the one woman who could see him as the man he wished to be.
Her lips sought his with as much longing as had been in his heart for weeks. He held her close enough to feel her heartbeat against his chest, one arm keeping her near while his hand held her, fingertips in her hair and thumb brushing her jaw. Teresa’s kisses were like rain, and he was a man too long in a draught.
Teresa deserved every happiness he could give her. Neil slowed his kisses, becoming more tender. He parted from her, hardly able to hear her ragged breathing over his own.
“Will you marry me?” She had not yet answered, and he had to hear it.
“Yes,” she whispered. “As soon as possible.”
He chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “I agree. The week after your mother exchanges vows with the vicar. Can you wait until then? We cannot take her day of happiness.”
She pulled back and looked up at him, her expression bright. “You are the best man I know, putting my mother’s happiness before yours that way.”
“I have another motive,” he confessed, purposefully putting on his most wicked grin. “It means she will be married and living at the vicarage, so we can send Caroline to her after our wedding.”
Teresa laughed, and even in the lamplight he had the great pleasure of watching her blush.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The day before Teresa’s wedding, she lingered in the orchard with Neil. The leaves were beginning to change colors, and there was nothing to keep them there except for their desire to be with one another.
Arm in arm, they walked beneath the trees. “Tomorrow,” she said, “I will be Mrs. Duncan. I never thought I would love someone again. Not like this.”
Neil raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I never thought I would love anyone at all. Thankfully, I have you as a most excellent teacher in such matters.”
Teresa was fully prepared to reward him for that compliment with a kiss, but a clatter of hooves and wheels made her pause. They turned, together, to face the house. A carriage had appeared on the road, and turned into their lane.
“Goodness me,” Teresa breathed, hand going to her mouth. She recognized the coat of arms only because Neil had recently drawn it for her. A dark blue background with a black swan upon it declared for all to see that the carriage belonged to the Marquess of Alderton.
“They would turn up now,” Neil muttered, sounding rather cross. “My family enjoys stomping upon the happiness of others.” He kept Teresa’s hand in his, but stalked toward the cottage and their unexpected visitors.
Teresa kept up with his long-legged stride, trying to keep her dread at bay. Neil loved her. Nothing his family said or did would change that. She knew that.
One of the men atop the carriage had climbed down and opened the door. He reached inside and helped a most elegant woman to alight. Her hair was the same honey-blonde color as Neil’s, and though she had to be older than Teresa’s mother, there was a handsomeness about her that suggested she had once been a great beauty.
The woman who stepped out next was a younger version of the first, closer in age to Teresa. “Dear me. What is this horrid place?” she asked, her voice clearly ringing through the air.
Caroline had appeared in the door, her grandmother behind her. The vicar and his new bride had come to visit and help Caroline pack a small trunk for her stay with them.
“Mother,” Neil called as they stepped upon the newly laid gravel between house and barn. “Olivia. Welcome to Bramble Cottage.” He gave Teresa’s hand a squeeze when the marchioness turned toward them. “Allow me to present Mrs. Clapham.” Teresa curtsied, undaunted by the chilly glares from both women.
Though they were Neil’s family, she saw at once they held no warmth in their hearts for her. Perhaps not for anyone.
“I received your letter,” Lady Alderton said. “You are quite determined to wed this woman?” She did not at all mention the other letters Teresa knew Neil had sent her, every week since he had come to Dunwich and the cottage.
Had she only come to prevent her son’s wedding?
Neil drew Teresa closer and looked down at her, his expression determined. “I am. I love her.” He looked up. “You are welcome to stay for the wedding tomorrow.”
Lady Olivia huffed and stamped one foot, a childish display of temper even Caroline had given up years before. “Neil, how could you? And what are you dressed like? A peasant?” Her lip curled. “Papa was on the verge of relenting until your letter arrived.”
Teresa swallowed and looked at Neil again.
He shrugged. “I doubt that.”
With slow, purposeful words, Lady Alderton spoke. “He has written you entirely out of his will. You will receive nothing more from him, even after his death.”
For a moment, Neil’s expression fell. But not with regret. With sorrow. “I hope his anger has not hurt you, Mother.”
That statement seemed to surprise his mother. She looked at him more carefully, then at last looked to Teresa. “And what do you have to say to this, Mrs. Clapham? My son is penniless. For the rest of his life.”
“It is fortunate that I am not, then.” Teresa began to relax. There was no threat in the woman’s words. Indeed, she seemed only curious. “And we have the farm. We will be well enough, my lady.”
“Living in the dirt,” Lady Olivia said with a snarl. “How could you debase yourself like this, Neil?”
“Olivia.” Her mother turned to the young woman, her tone cold. “The situation is not as I thought. Take yourself back to the carriage. I will speak to your brother.” She raised both eyebrows. “And Mrs. Clapham.”
With a scowl, Lady Olivia flounced away. Muttering unkind things as she went, which Teresa chose not to hear.
Neil appeared to take it all in stride. “What is it you wish to say, Mother?” he asked, all politeness. Teresa knew he cared for his mother and had always respected her as a good son ought. But there seemed to be no great love or tenderness between them. Not like what Teresa shared with her mother, or Caroline with her.
Lady Alderton gestured to the orchard. “Might we walk through those trees? They are quite lovely.”
“Of course.” Neil offered his free arm to his mother, and she took it. Though Teresa’s mind rather felt like a hive of bees had been loosed inside, buzzing about with her thoughts and nervousness, she remained silent upon Neil’s other arm.
“
The marquess is not your natural father, as you know,” Lady Alderton said without preamble. “The man who sired you is dead, and of no worry to any of us.” She spoke coldly, but Teresa wondered if it was from habit rather than lack of sentiment. “He was killed in a duel, shortly after Olivia was born. The coward who shot him fled to the Continent shortly after.”
Neil’s arm stiffened, and Teresa drew nearer to him in support. He had only wondered aloud once, to her knowledge, who the man might be.
“He was a philandering cad.” Lady Alderton spoke without emotion. “But he was kind to me, and I was lonely. I tell you this not to hurt you.” She withdrew her arm and stopped them beneath the first of the trees. “But so you know, once and for all, that you have always been your own man. The marquess was harsh with you, and you have never so much as boxed the ears of one of your brothers. Your natural father cared little for anything but his own pleasure, and you have always put your sister and I first. Though I do not claim to understand this”—she gestured between him and Teresa—“I want you to know that you have been a good son to me. The marquess would leave you penniless. I would see you happy.”
Teresa’s heart went out to the woman. Though she spoke so calmly, only years of pain and sorrow could have produced a woman with such a fortified heart. When Teresa looked up at Neil, she saw the same knowledge in his eyes.
“Thank you, Mother.”
After making a brief, dismissive gesture, her ladyship looked over the orchard. “This is a pretty place. I am glad you have found it. Perhaps, someday, I might come visit you both again.”
The surprise on Neil’s face made Teresa hasten to answer for them. “We would like that, your ladyship.”
The woman nodded. “That is all I wished to say. Neil, I have brought you some of your things. I could not liberate much from your rooms, but there are a few books and clothes.”
Neil swallowed, a grateful smile appearing upon his face. “Thank you.”
“And one of your dogs. That favorite male hunter of yours.”
Reforming Lord Neil: A Regency Romance, Inglewood Book 5 Page 22