“Which I have no doubt will indeed be a most extraordinary adventure.” Hannah cast her niece an unrepentant grin.
“Very well.”
“Very well what?”
“We’ll go.” Kathleen waved at the file. “You’re absolutely right. I do need to put all this out of my head for a few days.”
“I scarcely think a few days is sufficient—”
“A few days,” Kathleen said firmly.
“Very well.” Hannah thought for a moment. “We could stop in Norcroft. It is on the way.”
“I don’t know—”
“Nonetheless, it might be beneficial to see the place where you will spend the rest of your days. I would think…” Hannah paused for a long moment.
“You would think what?”
“I have an idea,” Hannah said slowly.
“What kind of idea?”
“An idea…” Hannah’s forehead furrowed in consideration. “An idea that will allow you to get to know his lordship without his knowing your true purpose.”
Kathleen drew her brows together. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I didn’t think you would. Precisely why I have no intention of telling you until it’s absolutely necessary. This match has been five hundred years in the making but obviously needs a bit of assistance. Do remember, dear, extremis malis, extrema remedia.”
“What?”
“The family motto, Kathleen? Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
Kathleen held up her wrist and shook her bracelet. “That would be nearly impossible.”
“Extreme remedies for extreme ills,” Hannah intoned as if her niece hadn’t said a word.
“As excellent a motto as it is, in this instance, I don’t like the sound of that either.”
“We can leave first thing in the morning. No.” Hannah shook her head. “It shall take a few days to make arrangements.”
“What arrangements?”
Hannah ignored her. “It’s an excellent plan, really quite brilliant. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Hannah.” A warning sounded in Kathleen’s voice even though she knew it would do her no good. Once Hannah latched on to an idea, it was impossible to dissuade her.
“Never fear, Kathleen, and leave it entirely to me.” Hannah smiled the sort of smile that would strike fear into the heart of anyone who knew her well. “You shall be the Countess of Norcroft in no time.” Her smile widened. “The curse will be broken and we shall all live quite happily for the rest of our days. No matter what it takes.”
Chapter 2
It wasn’t a bad way to spend the day. Not productive perhaps but then Oliver had always believed that one should, on occasion, have a day in which nothing of note should be accomplished. A day that was simply to be savored, like an exceptionally fine cigar or a wine of rare vintage or a lovely woman.
Oliver leaned on the balustrade on the back terrace of Norcroft Manor and gazed over the gardens and the fields and countryside beyond. While he didn’t consider himself a country sort of person, he did love being at Norcroft Manor. There was a peace here one never knew in the city. Of course, nothing of significant interest ever happened in the country, which was precisely why it was so peaceful. This was fine up to a point, but a week or two from now he would be bemoaning that fact. Even so, this was his favorite time of year, right after the harvest. It wasn’t late enough in the year for the hint of autumn to come and yet the change of seasons was in the air nonetheless. Or perhaps it was simply in his mind. Anticipation, that’s what it was. The feeling that something was about to happen.
It was a silly idea and probably due more to the idleness of the day than anything else. Still, he had earned a bit of rest. In the three days since his arrival he’d met at length with his estate manager, paid visits to all of his tenants, scrutinized the harvest, and agreed to his mother’s plans for the annual Harvest Ball. Oliver chuckled. Not that he really had any say in it. The dowager Countess of Norcroft was convinced her true calling in life now was as a hostess, though she had once been skilled with a bow. Oliver conceded she might well be right. Besides, he rather enjoyed a good party himself and the Harvest Ball, always held out-of-doors, under the stars, was a longstanding tradition on the estate. Mother was also awaiting the arrival of her three nieces by marriage who would join in the festivities. The girls had lived with them until the end of the season when they had left the city to spend the summer months with their sister, the Marchioness of Helmsley, at her husband’s family estate, Effington Hall.
“Beg pardon, my lord.” The butler’s voice sounded a few steps behind him. In all the years Oliver had known Hollinger, he had never been able to figure out how a man as solidly built as the butler managed to approach without making a sound.
Oliver turned. “Yes?”
“There is…that is to say there are…” Hollinger’s usually unflappable demeanor seemed just a touch ruffled.
Oliver bit back a smile. “Go on.”
“My lord.” Hollinger drew a deep breath as if to brace himself. “There are…persons in the front parlor.”
“Persons?” Oliver raised a brow. “Of a disreputable nature?”
“I didn’t say that, my lord.” At once Hollinger’s aplomb returned.
“No, I simply gathered as much from your expression.”
“My apologies, sir,” Hollinger said in his usual cool manner. “It will not happen again.”
“I’m certain it won’t.” Once more Oliver resisted the urge to smile. Hollinger prided himself on being the perfect butler and such perfection did not lend itself to allowing his opinions to show on his face. “Who are these persons?”
“Mr. Clarke, from the village, and his son accompanied by an older woman, obviously of quality, and a young woman. They seem to feel she belongs here.”
Oliver drew his brows together. “Who belongs here?”
“The young woman.”
Apparently, having permitted his usual stolid façade to slip, Hollinger now felt the way to redemption was to reveal as little information as possible. “Why would they think she belongs here?”
“I’m not certain, sir. It’s rather convoluted and most curious.”
“Is it?” Oliver stared in confusion. “What does the young woman say?”
“Nothing, my lord.” Hollinger paused. “She does not appear to be conscious. You might wish to—”
“Yes, of course.” Oliver started toward the house then stopped. “How did she get here?”
“Young Mr. Clarke carried her, sir.”
“I see.” Tom Clark was a strapping lad hovering on the brink of manhood. While he was well able to carry damn near anything, he had a look in his eye that indicated he wouldn’t be at all reluctant to haul unconscious young women around the countryside. “You might wish to mention the fact of a visitor’s unconscious state before any other details should the occasion ever again arise.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“It is somewhat intriguing though,” Oliver said more to himself than the butler and again started for the door. “An unknown woman, unable to speak for herself, brought to our door.”
“Yes, sir.” Hollinger made it across the terrace a scant step in front of Oliver and quickly opened the door. “And a very attractive young woman at that,” he said pointedly.
“I know that you, and every other servant in the house, are firmly aligned with my mother in the shared goal of seeing me wed but you needn’t drag in half-dead women off the street,” Oliver said under his breath. His mother had long wished him to marry but ever since the first man had fallen in the blasted tontine, she had become relentless in badgering him about his failure to wed. He had noticed as well that Hollinger and Cook and other household servants, who were as much a part of the family as they were employees, had not so subtly joined in her crusade.
“My lord, I would never consider such a thing.” Hollinger’s shocked voice sounded behind him. “And, might I point out,
that her arrival is through no fault of anyone here at the manor.”
Oliver snorted in a manner indicating his skepticism. He was well aware that Hollinger and the rest of the staff had only his best interests at heart. Still, it was an annoyance to realize that the personal details of his life were of as much concern below stairs as they were above. It was irritating as well for the man who had won the tontine to be made to feel by those around him as if he had somehow failed.
Oliver reached the parlor and paused. Joseph Clarke and his boy, Tom, stood off to one side looking at once awed and uncomfortable. Certainly, villagers attended the Harvest Ball but they rarely visited the manor at other times.
The young lady had been laid on a sofa. Hollinger was right. She was indeed lovely, with dark red hair, the color of good mahogany, and fine features. Oliver wondered what her eyes would look like. He rather hoped they would be green. He’d always had a fondness for green-eyed redheads. But what man didn’t?
“Lord Norcroft, I presume.” A well-dressed, handsome woman, about his mother’s age, stepped forward.
“Yes.” Oliver nodded a bow. “And you are?”
“I am Lady Fitzgivens but it scarcely matters.” She waved aside the question. “At the moment I am simply a concerned passer-by. A good Samaritan as it were. I had just departed the train from London and was about to enter the carriage I had arranged to meet me here to take me the final way to Lord Darlington’s estate. It was extremely shortsighted of Lord Darlington not to have his estate located closer to the railway, although I suppose the railway is to blame, as Lord Darlington’s property has probably not moved for generations.” Her brows drew together in a considering manner. “No, it definitely has not moved. I could have taken a carriage the entire way I suppose, but excessively long carriage rides are so tiresome and I find a train is much more interesting. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose but—”
She smiled pleasantly. “Do you know Lord Darlington?”
“I have made his acquaintance,” Oliver said slowly.
“Lovely man. As I was saying, moments after my arrival I saw this unfortunate young woman trip and fall off the train platform.” She cast a concerned look at the young lady on the sofa. “Fortunately, it wasn’t very high. Unfortunately, the poor dear appears to have hit her head. Still, by the looks of her, she has a healthy disposition and should come to her senses in no time. What time is it?”
“Half past three, my lady,” Hollinger said.
“That late? Well, I imagine she will be fully recovered and back to her normal state within a day or two.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Or three. Perhaps even a week. Possibly longer.” She paused. “Or less. There’s really no way to know how long something like this might last. It’s all remarkably imprecise.”
Oliver stared. “You can’t possibly be a physician.”
“Don’t be absurd.” She leveled him a hard look. “I am simply an astute and wise observer of life.” Her gaze shifted to his unconscious guest. “Although one would think she would have at least awoken by now,” she added under her breath then met Oliver’s gaze firmly. “You might wish to provide her some assistance, young man.”
“Yes, of course. I had certainly intended—Hollinger,” Oliver glanced at the butler, “send for a physician at once.”
“My wife went to fetch Dr. Miller, my lord,” Joseph said quickly. “But we thought it best to bring her here without delay.”
“Quite right.” Oliver paused. “Why?”
“It seemed a good idea,” Lady Fitzgivens said quickly. “We didn’t want to leave her lying on the ground. Why, it wouldn’t be at all the right thing to do.”
“Of course not, but why here?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, to Norcroft Manor you mean? It seemed obvious. Her hat and gown are of the finest quality and in the latest fashion, indicating she is well bred and certainly of means.” She leaned toward Oliver and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “The gloves, you know. One can always tell a lady of quality by her gloves.” She straightened. “We thought she belonged here. A houseguest perhaps. Goodness, where else might she be going?”
“The same place you are. To Lord Darlington’s perhaps,” Oliver suggested.
“Excellent point, my lord. How very clever of you to think of it,” she said with a smile that seemed oddly forced. “Nonetheless.” Lady Fitzgivens waved away his comment. “She’s entirely too young for Lord Darlington’s gathering. At least this particular gathering, although I daresay like most men of his age, his lordship appreciates the companionship of a lovely younger lady. However, I know nearly everyone who will be in attendance, if not by sight, then by reputation.”
“Even so, I would think—”
“Beyond all else…” Lady Fitzgivens dug through a large reticule dangling from her arm and pulled out a crumpled envelope with a flourish. “She had a letter addressed to Lady Norcroft.” She handed the envelope to Oliver with a triumphant gleam in her eye.
It was indeed addressed to his mother. He raised a brow. “It’s open and it’s empty.”
“Is it?” Lady Fitzgivens plucked the envelope from his hand, shook it and peered inside. “So it is. The letter must have blown away in the confusion.” She returned the envelope. “How very awkward. I gather then that you don’t know her?”
Oliver shook his head. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Lady Fitzgivens shrugged. “Well, perhaps Lady Norcroft…”
“I’ve never seen her before either,” his mother said, sailing into the room. She gave a cordial nod to the Clarkes, crossed the room to the sofa, and studied the unconscious woman. “Still, she could well be a distant relative or the daughter of an old friend or any number of things. I really have no idea but she is our responsibility now.”
“Why?” Oliver said without thinking.
His mother and Lady Fitzgivens exchanged glances as if basic hospitality wasn’t something one could expect a man to understand. Which was most unfair. Oliver considered himself quite hospitable.
“Hollinger, have her carried to one of the rooms in the west wing, the green one I should think.” Mother nodded at the butler who immediately signaled to a footman every bit as up to the task as Tom. The young man cast a regretful look as the footman gathered up the lady and carried her off. “Joseph, I’m sure Cook can provide you and Tom with some refreshment in the kitchen for your troubles. You’ve been most helpful.”
“Weren’t nothing, my lady.” In spite of his words, Joseph looked pleased at the compliment. Hollinger ushered father and son to the door and directed another footman to take them to the kitchen.
Mother turned to Lady Fitzgivens. “I am his lordship’s mother, Lady Norcroft. I don’t believe we’ve met, although you do look vaguely familiar.”
“I often do.” The lady laughed. “I am Lady Fitzgivens.” The other woman smiled pleasantly and it struck Oliver that the two older ladies might have a great deal in common. Aside from a similarity of age, they both seemed to think he was somehow lacking in the social niceties.
“Might I offer you some refreshment as well?”
“No, no, I must be on my way. I’ve delayed far too long already.” Lady Fitzgivens leaned toward his mother. “I should hate to miss so much as a moment of the festivities at Lord Darlington’s. One never knows what might happen that would be fodder for gossip and I do so like witnessing such incidents first hand.”
“I haven’t been to Lord Darlington’s party for years.” A wistful note sounded in his mother’s voice. Utter nonsense, of course. His mother had an extremely active social calendar. She had nothing whatsoever to feel wistful about.
“Perhaps that’s where we’ve met,” Lady Fitzgivens said. “Although admittedly my memory has dulled along with the rest of me through the years. Still.” A naughty twinkle shone in her eye. “I daresay we have a few good years left.”
Mother laughed. “One can only hope.”
“I shall take my leave then.” La
dy Fitzgivens turned to go then turned back, concern on her face. “Do let me know how the young lady fares. It did not appear that she fell that hard. I’m rather surprised she has not come to her senses yet.”
“While Dr. Miller’s is a country practice, he is a more than competent physician,” Mother said firmly. “She is in very good hands.”
Lady Fitzgiven’s gaze searched his mother’s. “Excellent. I should hate for my…my good deed to be for naught.” She turned again and started for the door.
“What about baggage,” Oliver blurted. “If she arrived on the train she must have had bags of some sort.”
Lady Fitzgivens shrugged. “I didn’t notice any unclaimed bags but surely if she had bags they will turn up eventually. Good day, my lord.” She nodded at his mother. “Lady Norcroft.” With that she swept from the room.
Oliver met his mother’s gaze firmly. “Do you think this is wise?”
“I’m not sure wisdom has anything to do with it, Oliver,” Mother said lightly.
He folded his arms over his chest. “You do realize Mother, this young woman could be anyone.”
“Precisely, why it was our duty to take her in.”
“But she could be a thief or a criminal or a—”
“Don’t be absurd, Oliver.” Mother scoffed. “One can tell just by looking at her that she is obviously a lady as well as a young woman of substance. And did you note the bracelet around her wrist with the little gold charm? I should like to get a closer look at that. It was exquisite.”
“Stolen, no doubt,” he muttered.
His mother continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “Her clothes are of an excellent quality, the latest style and in perfect taste. Her gloves were exceptional. You can always tell a true lady by the quality of her gloves.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Lady Fitzgivens said—”
“And she was right. Did you by any chance look at our guest’s boots?”
Oliver huffed. “No, but—”
Seduction of a Proper Gentleman (Last Man Standing) Page 3