by Allison Lane
“What about your friends and the ruin you brought on that innocent child?” His fury filled the room.
“Lies. Anything Ashburton said was either twisted or downright false – as he will confirm if you ask him. He is on his way to Sussex as we speak.”
“What?”
“He has been plotting this for at least a year, though I was no part of his plan in the beginning. Your rush to make our recent spat public convinced him that I would make a convenient tool, so he set the plan in motion. Once he caught me in his snare, he must have decided to use you as well. He could count on you to repeat his charges to all and sundry, thus spreading Miss Ashburton’s supposed ruin to every level of society.” His stomach churned, fearing that his own efforts were for naught, for Ashburton had said nothing about involving Montcalm. What else had the man left out of his confession?
“He miscalculated,” said Montcalm. “I did not want to believe that my own son could be so venal, so I came here to discover the truth for myself.”
“And promptly insulted an innocent lady with charges that would demand satisfaction if you weren’t my own blood.”
“I will apologize in due time if the situation warrants it,” he said stiffly.
“How pompous. Why not investigate first and save the insults until you know they are justified?” He reined in his temper, reminding himself that side issues too often clouded their arguments. That was how they had gone wrong the last time. “Ashburton has seen the error of his ways,” he said in a calmer tone. “Blake and I poured him into his coach an hour ago.”
Montcalm’s eyes gleamed, but the humor rapidly disappeared. “He claimed you are hosting an orgy with the most disreputable rakes in England.”
Max shook his head. “Several gentlemen and ladies of the evening left London the same time Blake did, though only Blake is here,” he replied carefully. He could not lie, but neither could he reveal everything. “The only member of the group I would consider disreputable was Dornbras.”
“I thought him your closest friend.”
“Hardly, but your tirades sometimes prompt exaggerations.”
Montcalm met his gaze and nodded.
Max felt a great weight shift from his shoulders. Their relationship had changed in that brief glance. It was the first time he had admitted fault to his father’s face and the first time Montcalm had accepted a claim without argument. No longer were they meeting as parent and child, but as two adults.
“Blake is here, as I mentioned. Most of the girls were headed elsewhere, though Blake took one to Plymouth. She wanted to start a new life, so I paid her fare to America.”
“Why?”
“She has no family to protect her from reprisals here.” He shrugged.
Montcalm started to speak, but closed his mouth.
Max returned to the original subject. “Ashburton showed up here a week later. When informed that I wasn’t here, he was furious, though Miss Ashburton managed to push him out of the house.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you owned Redrock.”
“I do, but Mrs. Ashburton and her daughter lease the house and park.”
“Where were you?”
“Mrs. Ashburton was ill. Though I had considerable business with the steward, it would not have been proper to stay here while she was bedridden. The daughter had no other chaperon.”
“And now?”
“Mrs. Ashburton’s brother, Richard Godfrey, has arrived.”
“Godfrey… Where do I know that name?”
“Sir Quentin Godfrey’s heir. With him in residence and with Mrs. Ashburton’s improvement, Blake and I can properly stay here, which makes it more convenient to work with my steward on next year’s planting schedule.”
As hoped, that diverted Montcalm from anything else Ashburton might have written. Max could only pray the man had not included others in his scheme, though Montcalm’s support would quash any rumors.
They passed an hour in friendly argument over agricultural theories. For the first time, Montcalm listened, giving Max’s ideas the respect they deserved even when he disagreed. By the time Max showed him to his room, their relationship had changed. More lighthearted than he had ever been before, he went in search of Hope.
* * * *
Hope angrily sieved onions and milk-coddled bread into a pot of chicken stock to make a soup, then added yet another chicken to the roasting spit. She’d sent Wilkins to the stream with a fishing line, but had no guarantee that he’d catch anything.
Cursing Max for at least the thousandth time in the last hour, she hung her largest rack above the fire. Somehow she would have to fill a dozen pots if she hoped to satisfy all the mouths that would be waiting for dinner. How dared the man descend on her without warning, an army of lords and retainers in tow, when he knew she had no staff? She had planned a simple dinner for herself, Rockhurst, her mother, and seven servants. Ten people. Now she must add her uncle, Merimont, his father, and eleven more servants, all of them males incapable of helping with the work.
Let Max deal with it, whispered a voice. You feed your people and let him manage his.
It was tempting – especially since she knew he’d make a hash of things if he tried – but she couldn’t do it. If she willingly turned over responsibility for the house, he might use it against her. Finding her uncle was proof of his intentions. And his father would add his influence to overturn the lease.
She buried her pain under a new round of curses.
Rose had heard him laughing with Montcalm, so whatever rift they’d suffered must be healed. Heat rose in her cheeks as she recalled her own outburst to the man. Her only excuse was that she’d still been reeling from her recognition of Merimont’s perfidy. But how could she face him after being so rude?
She couldn’t. At least not yet. She would put him in the dining room with Max and Rockhurst. Henry could serve three, especially if Wilkins agreed to help. Uncle Richard was eating with her mother. She would eat in the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Tweed to preside over a proper servants’ hall. There might be complaints over the food, but no one could fault either her hospitality or her propriety.
Setting several pots of water to boil, she chopped enough turnips to fill one. After tossing carrots into another, she cut up some broccoli.
Max walked in as she was basting the beef loin and chickens. “Richard says that you and your mother will be going home with him in a week or so.”
“You won’t be rid of us that easily,” she snapped, giving the third spit a quarter turn before pulling out her one fish. There was no sign of Wilkins with more, so she would have to filet and braise this one for the three gentlemen in the dining room. Uncle Richard must do without a fish course tonight.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, rounding the table to her side. She nearly sliced her thumb with the boning knife, but pretended she was unaware of his nearness.
“As if you didn’t know, you manipulative sneak,” she said stonily. “Did you think I was too stupid to see through your scheme? Such a magnanimous gesture – find the long-lost family. Of course, we would have to visit them. How could we not? And the moment we leave, you will claim abandonment and cancel the lease. Who would dare rule against the great Marquess of Montcalm when he backs you?”
“My God!”
“You needn’t sound so shocked. You know the terms as well as I do. Grandfather made sure he could recover control if we no longer needed Redrock, but the wording means we must remain here to protect our interest. Mother needs to see her father, but I’m going nowhere.”
Max stared at her in shock. How could he have missed that interpretation of the abandonment clause – though he had to admit that Ashburton would have reacted just like that had he been smart enough to think of it.
Fury clawed at his chest. And pain. Her suspicions overrode all else. And his father’s assumption that she was ruined would have supported her fears. If his own father believed him capable of dishonor, why would she think him any bett
er?
He bit back a groan. If she believed he could be that devious, how would she react to the settlement he’d wrested from Ashburton? For the first time, the bruises on his knuckles stabbed pain up his arms.
“Damn you!” he growled, knocking a ladle to the floor as he lunged for the paper lying on the corner of the table. Ignoring the butcher’s order on one side, he turned it over, scrawling hard enough that the pen split, spattering ink across a mound of chopped broccoli. “I’m sick of leases. And I’m sick of your never-ending distrust. The estate is yours. House. Tenants. Everything.” He shoved the paper into her hands. “Free and clear. Lock, stock, and barrel. Visit China. Set up housekeeping in America if you want. No one can touch it.”
A voice whispered that he would be sorry, but he ignored it. If she turned him down, he could never live here anyway.
“Wha—” She was staring at the paper as if it might rear up and bite her.
“Are you happy now? Your house is safe. Your mother is recovering. And your uncle won’t ever bother you again.”
She burst into tears.
He cursed, then pulled her head against his shoulder. “Don’t cry, love.”
She cried even harder.
With another oath, he scooped her up and carried her to a chair where he could cradle her in his lap, holding her close until her tears ceased.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” he said, handing her a handkerchief. “Finding your mother’s family had nothing to do with the lease. You were making yourself sick fretting over her illness, and she was sunk so deep in melancholy that I feared she would die. The estrangement from her family clearly distressed her, so I hoped her father’s forgiveness might bring her round.”
“You did it to make her better?”
“Nothing else was working. Even that new cure Dr. Jenkins tried didn’t raise her spirits.”
“But you hardly know her.”
“I did it for you.”
She stared, but her eyes no longer held shock. They were so warm he could barely breathe. “Why?” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“I love you, Hope. I would do anything for you.”
Her eyes widened.
“Let’s see if I can do better this time, love – though I doubt it is possible to bungle things any worse than I did last time.”
“True.” But her smile lifted his last fears.
“This has nothing to do with leases or compromises or society’s expectations,” he said, rubbing the side of her neck with his thumb before tugging on a lock of fiery hair. “And it has nothing to do with plots or reprisals or any of our relatives. I love you, Hope. You bring sunshine to the stormiest day. You are loyal to those you love and caring of anyone in need. So care for me, please? I need you to keep me from growing haughty and grumpy like my father. I need you to make life worth living. I love you, Hope. Marry me.” He dipped his head closer, brushing her lips with a light kiss.
At least he meant it to be light. But her response shattered his control. She leaned into him, opening her mouth, her arms twining around his neck. It wasn’t surprise this time, or shock, or even curiosity. She was as ravenous as he.
Groaning, he pulled her closer.
Hope reeled under his passion. The shocks had piled one atop another all afternoon, destroying her fears, her promises, even her control. It was too much – Uncle Richard, Uncle Edward, her mother’s happiness, her own suspicions, the safety she felt in Max’s arms. She could not have pulled away if her life had depended on it.
Not that she wanted to. The last doubts fled, never to return. He was everything her instincts had claimed, and more. The earth-shattering gift of Redrock proved it. As did his care for people in need. She should have listened earlier.
But he’d given her another chance.
She basked in his kiss, savoring the heat, the excitement, the promise of a future beyond her comprehension. It was more than she had dreamed possible. More than imagination had conjured after their last kiss. His shoulders were powerful, his hair silky. Fire raged through her body, making her breasts so sensitive she nearly cried out in pain.
His hand brushed one tip, eliciting a moan that would have embarrassed her under any other circumstance.
“Hope,” he groaned, pulling back slightly. “Marry me, love. I need you.”
“Yes.” But even as the word escaped her lips, she stiffened.
“You aren’t sure.” She could hear the pain in his voice. “I should not have pressured you.”
“Yes … no…” She cursed under her breath. “I am making a hash of this, too. Let me try again,” she begged, twisting so she could capture his face between her hands and look directly into his eyes. “My dearest lord, I spent twenty-six years believing that all gentlemen were alike.”
“Max. At least give me that much.”
“Max. You have taught me so much, Max. The most important lesson was that gentlemen come in all varieties and must be judged as individuals. You may enjoy many of the things I was taught to despise, but beneath it all, you are an honorable man. And a kind man. I realized after you left that I loved you. What you have done for Mother can only make me love you more. My reaction just now was shock at accepting so easily something I had never believed possible. I would be proud to be your wife, Max. I cannot think of a better husband.”
“Thank God. My sweet Hope. You truly are the hope of my future.” He pulled her into another kiss. “And you are better in person than in any dream, love. You’ve no idea how many of mine you’ve invaded.”
“No more than you’ve invaded of mine, I’d wager,” she murmured, tracing his jaw as she kissed him again. “I haven’t slept well since you arrived.”
“Good.” He nibbled an ear.
Sizzling filled the room. “Oh, Lord! I forgot dinner.” Hope jumped up to turn the spits and stir the soup.
“It is just as well that it reminded you. It was time to stop,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll not take you until our wedding night.”
“Which had better be soon.” She had learned enough about passion in the last five minutes to be irritated at his declaration.
“As soon as we can arrange it, though it will be weeks at best. My father will probably insist on holding it at Widicomb Abbey.”
“Speaking of your father, why is he here?”
He slid his arms around her waist from behind. “Another of Ashburton’s schemes. But it failed. We mended a few fences, and I believe I’ve found a new friend.”
“Wonderful.” She kissed him on the nose when he leaned over her shoulder.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Not much. You doubled the mouths I have to feed, you horrible man. I don’t know how I can come up with a meal that will satisfy a marquess, two earls, and a baronet’s heir, let alone all the stable hands and valets.”
“We will be easy to please, I promise. And I can help – if you will trust me. I’m sure I can do better this time.”
“I will trust you with anything, Max. Even dinner.”
He was as good as his word. He stirred. He basted. He turned spits and carved meats.
Hope laughed helplessly as Henry carried a dish of very odd-shaped chicken parts into the servants’ hall, which would be presided over by the Marquess of Montcalm this evening.
“I will trust you with anything but dinner, Max,” she emended, taking in the syllabub spattered against the back door, the drippings running from fireplace to table, the broken crockery, and the blanket of flour coating his waistcoat and pantaloons. “How do you manage to live from morning to night without killing yourself?”
“I’ve never been clumsy before,” he swore from his position on the floor, where he’d collapsed after the flour incident. “I am the epitome of grace in a ballroom.”
“Never mind, Max. I love you anyway. But we need to find a cook tomorrow. And at least two maids.”
“Plus a butler, two footmen, and a housekeeper,” he finished, grinning as he sprang to his feet and
swept her into his arms. “They should arrive by noon, unless the agency is quite off its usual efficiency. They were scheduled to leave London the morning after I did.”
She tried to frown at his high-handedness, but his eyes were too full of laughter to care. “Wonderful. Let’s eat, and then we can visit Mother. I think she can handle one more shock today.”
Dusting him off, she headed for the servants’ hall.
* * * *
Max firmly shut the drawing room door, then pulled Hope into a heated embrace. “I thought I’d never find you alone,” he grumbled. “I stumble over people every time I turn around.”
“I warned you that Redrock is too small for house parties.” She laughed as she traced the line of his ear.
“So you did. We will have to expand it.”
The new staff had arrived, relieving Hope of the housework she had shouldered for so long. Richard was sitting with her mother. A real cook presided over the kitchen, assisted by three helpers. Blake and Montcalm had ridden out to supervise the demolition of the dower house.
“Expansion…” She grinned. “Does that mean we will stay here?”
“For a time. You need to remain near your mother.”
“I’m glad you understand.” To prove she trusted him, she had given back Redrock. Her mother would return here after visiting Sir Quentin. “So what do you have in mind?”
He released her to pull a sketch from his pocket, spreading it on a table. “I thought we could add a wing on the west end – which would leave your mother’s rooms intact.”
The door burst open. “You’re back!” shouted Agnes, hurtling across the room with her arms extended. “How could you remain away so long, my darling? You knew we were planning a dinner party just for you.”
Max stepped behind the couch as Hope grabbed one of Agnes’s hands.
“How nice to see you, Agnes,” she said calmly, ignoring the girl’s appalling entrance. “It’s been nearly three days.”
“I could not remain away when I heard Merimont had returned.”
“How quickly news spreads. You must have called to wish us happy on the occasion of our betrothal.” She drew Agnes to the couch. Max had retreated to the far side of the room. She nearly laughed as he slipped behind a chair next to the door, allowing an easy escape if Agnes pounced again.