Incomparable Lord Meath: A Rebellious Sons NOVELLA

by Patricia Rice

  Had Evan been capable of performing a jig, he would have done so now. He had not actively been looking for a wife. He wasn’t certain he needed an interfering hen if he chose one. But being given permission to challenge the lady’s formidable intransigence added spice to his admittedly boring days.

  Rather than feeding his impatience by imagining the enchanting pocket Venus melting in his arms, Evan strengthened his backbone by picturing her thumping his bachelor household into order.

  He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, even after he entered the parlor to see his neighbor pale and stiff but dressed like the beautiful young lady she ought to be. Bell deserved a whirl about London. She’d bring the old farts to their knees.

  * * *

  Honora was no longer hungry. She could barely force her toast down. She spoke when spoken to and tried not to think of what was happening upstairs. She’d prepared Lady Isabell for Lord Meath’s visit, not for her uncle’s sake! It was intolerable enough that she had to imagine the viscount turning his exciting kisses to the beautiful equestrian. Even if Honora had never been kissed like that before, she knew the charming viscount meant nothing by his attentions. Lady Isabell needed him, and he should do what was proper.

  She hadn’t expected staid Belden to eagerly break his routine and leave his breakfast to join Meath.

  Now she had to consider her uncle actually marrying the lady.

  She could hope her uncle was simply being proper and acting in Wexford’s place until the earl arrived—except Belden had looked unusually dapper this morning. He’d almost smiled at Lord Meath’s foolishness. What were they up to? Her uncle never confided in her.

  Even her tea curdled in her stomach.

  Perhaps she should go up there for the sake of propriety. Sally was a sensible companion but lacked authority.

  At least Lord Meath had come looking like a proper suitor, instead of playing the part of shabby country squire as he had yesterday. His blue frock coat had been of the finest quality, and his doeskin breeches had been cut in a manner that any London tailor might hope to duplicate. He hadn’t had his abominable hair cut, but he’d tied the thick blond mop at his nape, which, she had to admit, enhanced his ruggedly handsome features.

  She and Sally had done their best to make Lady Isabell presentable. She was beautiful even in a night dress, but a new gown and coiffure had seemed to give her confidence. A seamstress had adapted her best pre-made gown by basting ruffles to the bodice to fill out the lady’s too-slender figure so she looked just like a fashion plate in shimmering emerald silk. Honora had hoped to keep her uncle distracted with business, leaving Lord Meath to re-discover the treasure under his nose.

  But Belden had gone with him, drat it. If both men had entered the parlor with marriage on their minds. . . The decision would be up to Lady Isabell. Could a young girl be trusted to see the wisdom of marrying her charming, but not wealthy, young neighbor rather than a rich old man who lived in a distant city?

  Of course, a man like Lord Meath who kissed anyone wearing skirts might not be the sort of loyal spouse a young lady deserved. But the upper echelons of society were accustomed to those sorts of flirtations. For the sake of her sisters, surely a practical young woman could learn to accept that.

  Honora had a niggling doubt about the rather impetuous young lady being so complacent. Setting down her napkin, she excused herself and hurried upstairs to see if she could control the situation.

  She encountered Meath guarding the closed parlor door. In shock, she gripped her shawl more firmly and glared. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be telling Lady Isabell about her horse and sisters?”

  “I knew you’d interfere, so I waited for you. Your useful maid is in there to observe propriety, and Wexford should be here momentarily. You and I are superfluous, my dear. Shall we walk in the park?”

  “Belden? He’s in there with. . . ?” She froze in alarm as she grasped the situation. Could she shove past the wretched viscount? Send a maid in to stir the fire? A tea tray. . . . Meath took her arm and steered her away. “I can almost hear the cogs whirling, my dear. It won’t do at all. Your uncle is a grown man and knows what he’s about. This is a business deal to him. I told Wexford to bring a solicitor, but he won’t, no more than he has arrived on time. Neither of us is in any position to tell our elders what to do.”

  His hand on her arm sent her head spinning. His kiss last night. . . She’d not been able to sleep for dreaming of where such a kiss could lead. She’d woken up throbbing with need. Really, she had to shake this unreasonable fog his presence induced. She had learned respect for her elders from an early age. She had no reason to question her uncle’s immense experience. “But Isabell. . .” she whispered in protest as Meath mercilessly dragged her down the corridor. “She knows nothing of the world. Surely there is some lady who can guide her?”

  Honora stumbled as the viscount led her toward the front stairs, the ones Wexford was hurrying up, sans solicitor and looking anxious. She developed the spine to shake off Meath’s hold and curtsied in the earl’s path. “My lord, if there is any way I may assist you or your daughter—”

  He looked gray and harassed. “I held the creditors off until after the race, but they are at the door, prepared to take my horses. It’s far too late to help me, young lady. I hope you’ll look after Bell.” He rushed off without explaining.

  “He and Belden hammered out an agreement yesterday.” Meath took her arm again, more sympathetically this time. “It’s up to Bell now.”

  “You didn’t even offer?” she asked in despair. “The three of you have sold that child as if she were one of your wretched horses!”

  “I couldn’t save Wexford,” Meath said with a shrug. “My pockets aren’t that deep. He’s a good man. He and his late wife practically raised me as their own after my mother ran away to the continent. My father abandoned me here with a tutor, after I got sent home from every school I ever attended. Wexford showed me the foolishness of my rebellion—if only by example of what I did not want to be. After my accident—well, let us say I would not be alive today were it not for him. I had to help him, don’t you see?”

  Honora heard his plea through her own grief, but she could not accept that there was nothing she could do, that it was all out of her hands. She’d not been this helpless since childhood. She had spent years ensuring that she’d never be helpless again. Tears stung her eyes, and she shook off his hand again. “I must salvage what I can from this wretched situation. You may see yourself out, sir.”

  She wrenched away, and back straight, marched off to battle.

  * * *

  Evan thought he ought to let her go. He’d done what he had to do. He’d bared his damnable soul by explaining his appalling childhood. He couldn’t help it if Miss Stiff-Rumped Honora Hoyt could not see past her own concerns to sympathize with another’s.

  He had a perfectly comfortable home, a fine life, good friends. He didn’t need her. He wanted her, certainly. There had been a hole in his life he hadn’t known how to fill. He recognized the fever now—he needed new challenges. Last night, he’d thought Miss Hoyt was the perfect solution. She would lead him a merry dance every day, and their children would be spectacular. But she obviously held him in contempt.

  Surely there were other women to fill the role of challenging wife, now that he acknowledged the need. Evan limped out to his waiting gig and pondered the problem. He’d always thought he’d go to London when he was ready to marry, but Miss Hoyt had showed him yesterday the selfishness of that notion. He had to acknowledge that she was right, that most women he knew preferred the comfort of family and the familiar. He had not only his leg to work against his chances of marrying, but his Irishness. There was a solution to that, too, but did he wish to apply it?

  Instead of climbing into the gig, he sat down on the stairs and pondered. Once he’d worked it all out in his head, he returned to the house, handed a generous vail to a footman with instructions, and joi
ned the guests in the salon. Evidently, when he gambled, he liked to do it on a large scale, but this time, he hoped the prize might be worth every bit of the humiliation and rejection he risked.

  Evan happily settled into the idle company, playing cards and discussing politics. Miss Hoyt had yet to put in an appearance by the time Wexford, Belden, and Bell entered the parlor together. Rose colored Bell’s cheeks, but her smile seemed genuine as she was introduced. Wexford looked a little less gray. Belden appeared to actually dote on his new acquisition, settling her into a comfortable seat, inquiring after her injury, ordering servants to look after her. Unaccustomed to such attention, Bell practically blossomed, Evan noted with relief. She deserved to be offered this opportunity to become the strong woman she should be.

  A wife like Bell would be good for the old goat. Evan didn’t regret his part in the manipulations at all—except for upsetting Miss Hoyt.

  When he had the chance, he leaned over the back of Bell’s chair and whispered, “Are you all right? Are you looking forward to a London Christmas or do you require a gallant knight on a white horse?”

  She laughed up at him. “Sure, and you’re offering yourself, are you? I’d rather take my chances on the dragon. It’s a relief to know someone else will see to the girls and da, and I can breathe a little of my own air for a change. Belden is stern, but with da, he has to be. I could never have done it on my own, and neither could you.

  “Truth,” Evan admitted. “I’ve felt rotten watching Wexford fall apart these last years, but I had my own problems to juggle. I wish I could have helped more.”

  “Your father left your estate and your tenants to decay. Returning them to production has been a blessing to many, and you kept us all from freezing in winter and more. If I didn’t show my proper gratitude, I’m sorry. But Miss Hoyt is showing me how women can stand on their own. So I shall use my new position to learn more of what I can do, and shower the girls with pretty presents. Now that you won’t be providing for us, you can find your own family.” She patted his hand where it rested on the chair back.

  “You’ll hie off to London, then?” he asked.

  She nodded once. “Belden will make the announcement this evening. There is some business about a bishop and a license. It’s tearing my heart to be parted from the girls, but. . .” She sent him a bleak look of despair. “He’s sending them all to America to start over!”

  “Oh, lass, I’m that sorry, I am!” He squeezed her hand. “I can still carry you off, if you wish it. Just say the word.”

  She shook her head, disturbing the ornate mahogany curls some maid had arranged. Taking a deep breath, she released his hand. “Don’t make me cry, please. He is paying off everything da owes, and letting him keep the stable and Little Dream . They’ll be far better off somewhere fresh and new, away from the sorrows here.”

  “If you’re sure, then I’m off to meddle some more. I’ll be coming to watch over you, lass, one way or another, like any good brother would do. You’ll not be alone, and we’ll see you enter society in style.”

  She didn’t quite smile, but relief flooded her eyes. “I’ve always wished for a big brother. One who is also my friend is a bonus.”

  A challenge, Evan told himself as he set off to corner Belden. He needed to shake up his life. It had become far too predictable.

  * * *

  How would she explain to her mother and aunts that they could no longer count on Beldens’ support? He’d said nothing yet, but Honora knew how her uncle’s mind worked. He didn’t waste coin on anything or anyone who did not provide services he needed. It was just a matter of time before he’d find her dispensable. She needed to warn her family to start cutting expenses now, so they’d have a little set aside when the inevitable happened, but what a terrible Christmas gift to give them!

  Belden was impatient for the nuptials so he could be off to London again. She wouldn’t have much time. She’d have to make herself essential to the future Lady Belden.

  But after she’d introduced the girl to the best seamstresses and society, what was left for her to do? She couldn’t even tell a new bride what to expect of the marriage bed! Perhaps she should have spent more time kissing Meath so she at least understood more of the pleasure a man could incite.

  As if her thoughts had conjured him, the devil himself limped down the hall, followed by a footman carrying a valise. Or possibly the stout square man was a valet, since he wore a supercilious sneer and no livery. Meath’s entire visage brightened at sight of her.

  “Miss Hoyt, well met! May I take you down to dinner this evening? I believe the happy announcement is to be made at a small gathering afterward. There will be much weeping, and I have brought my best handkerchiefs.”

  “I thought one wished the happy couple joy and shared laughter and toasts to the future at these events,” she countered, barely hiding her bitterness.

  “Oh, that’s the pretense, except for those close to the couple who are genuinely pleased. Otherwise, there are former mistresses and eager spinsters who have lost another chance at wealth. And ex-suitors who have lost the campaign for the lady’s hand and bed. A very sorrowful affair, I’m told. It shall be entertainment on a grand scale.”

  Apparently already informed of the viscount’s rooms, the valet stoically stomped on while Meath played the fool for her benefit.

  “You know how I feel, sir. I’m neither amused nor pleased, but I will not weep for your entertainment. If you will excuse me, I have other duties to my guests.”

  “What time is dinner served, and where is your room so I may be there to escort you down?” He didn’t seem in the least deterred by her dismissal.

  “You are a most sincerely annoying man, sir. Dinner is at seven this evening. And I cannot promise to be waiting for you. Small gatherings do not happen without preparation.” Holding back her tears, she shoved past him, leaving him to find his own way.

  She continued on to Lady Isabell’s room. The doctor had stopped by to examine his patient and insist that she rest more. It had seemed a wise idea with the trying evening ahead. But Belden had sent up an entire army of seamstresses and jewelers, and half the village now filled the parlor. Honora found herself balanced between loyalty to her uncle and sympathy for an overwhelmed young girl.

  The lady practically burst into tears when Honora arrived. “I have never owned more than my mother’s old gowns, and I despised them! How can I choose from all the flummery they’re throwing at me?”

  “First, you must always keep in mind who you are,” Honora told her, repeating her own mother’s advice. “The daughter of an earl, the wife of a marquess, has a very important position in society and standards to uphold. You must disburse your wealth wisely among those who deserve it. Without you, all these good people would be unemployed. As you go about in society, there will be those who admire and imitate you, as well, so your behavior must reflect your awareness of the effect you have on those who look up to you. You must dress yourself accordingly.”

  “Society is far more likely to bloody laugh and point at the ignorant Irish lack-wit who can’t talk right and doesn’t know how to dress or use two dozen forks!”

  Here was something Honora knew and could do. Rather than allow the girl to tower over her, she perched on the edge of the high bed. “You are clever. You will learn. I am here to give you counsel. Start with calling me Honora and see me as your friend, if you will.”

  The girl formally held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Honora. Call me Bell, for I fear I’m losing my name as well as my wits.”

  Honora wanted to hate the child who was destroying her livelihood, but Lady Bell was simply too young to be despised for a situation over which she had no control. Viscount Meath, however, she could hold responsible for this disaster.

  Chapter 4

  Miss Hoyt had successfully avoided Evan all evening by acting as queen of all she surveyed, commanding servants, assuring that all the guests were comfortable, and keeping Bell from faint
ing all over the furniture when Belden made his happy announcement. Evan had to admit Belden’s niece had performed her tasks to perfection. She would have made a damned fine school mistress.

  But Miss Hoyt had vanished like a fey wisp before he could importune her with more kisses. He supposed he’d have time to try again when he surprised her with his next deed, but he’d rather she didn’t pitch him off the ship when she discovered him on it. That didn’t leave him much time. Belden had arranged the wedding on the morrow and departure to England the day after.

  Having stalked all the salons and corridors in search of the lady, Evan wasn’t surprised when he caught Bell sneaking down the back stairs, covered in an old cloak. She’d retired early, and he’d suspected the two women were together somewhere making preparations. Running away wasn’t the preparation he’d had in mind, but exactly what he’d expect of the impetuous brat.

  “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” he asked in his sternest voice, stepping out of the shadows at the foot of the enclosed staircase.

  Bell nearly leaped out of her new shoes. Holding a hand to her damaged arm, she whispered, “I want to see the girls at home before I leave them. Da won’t explain the way he should, and they’ll be terrified.”

  “Your father won’t explain at all. He’s in the study, getting abominably drunk, as we speak.” Cursing to himself, Evan pondered the problem, but found no respectable solution. The little girls deserved a proper farewell. “You can’t ride with that arm. I’ll have to bring the gig around. Come along before someone discovers you’re gone.”

  He was helping Bell into the two-wheeled carriage when another cloaked figure hurried up. “Are you mad?” a feminine voice almost hissed. “Have both of you completely lost your minds? Belden will hunt you down and take off your useless heads! Wexford will be ruined!”