The Heiress's Convenient Husband

by Regina Scott

  “Once,” Mrs. Tully answered, followed by a yawn. “I didn’t care for him.”

  “Oh?” Eva asked. “Why not?”

  “Too full of himself. And no imagination. The man wouldn’t know a troll if it picked him up and heaved him.”

  Eva laughed imagining the look on the earl’s lean face as he sailed through the air. “And Mr. Howland, the magistrate?”

  “No troll would dare heave him.”

  Surprised, Eva rolled over to eye the dark shadow beside her. “Too proud?”

  “Too scared. The trolls, that is. No one threatens our magistrate.”

  She sounded so pleased by the fact. “Then he’s done good here,” Eva said.

  “He’s nothing but a blessing,” she insisted. “Twice when we had a bad harvest, he convinced the earl to forego his tithes. He raised a militia to keep our boys from being conscripted into the army and sent overseas. And I suspect the mermaids leave our fishermen alone because he’s had a word with them.”

  She could almost see mermaids complying with James Howland’s command. He had an air about him. And he was rather handsome.

  If one cared for arrogant aristocrats.

  He was already in high form when she and Mrs. Tully descended the stairs the next morning. A young man she didn’t know was cleaning out the hearth in the great hall, and, through the open door to the withdrawing room, she spotted two women dusting.

  “I thought you didn’t want to go to an expense,” she accused him.

  “The castle is cleaned quarterly,” he informed her, standing with arms crossed over his chest as he supervised the work. “I merely accelerated the time.”

  Today he wore a navy coat and chamois breeches that would have pleased any sporting mad Corinthian in London. There were no bags under his sharp blue eyes; no hint of a crick in that upright form. Sleeping on the settee apparently agreed with him.

  He nodded toward the long table that had come into view when the holland covers had been removed. “You said you needed a dining room in addition to the withdrawing room. I thought this would do. It’s close enough to the kitchen, down that corridor to the right, and keeps the disturbed area centralized.”

  “Why, Mr. Howland, you think of everything,” she drawled.

  Maudie, as she had insisted Eva call her, was eyeing the table. “Too small,” she said. “Where will the smugglers sit?”

  “Smugglers?” Eva teased. “Now, that’s a story I’d love to hear.”

  Mr. Howland dropped his arms and turned to her. “Breakfast first. I took the liberty of sending to the bakery in the village. Do you prefer sweet rolls or toast in the morning?”

  “Oh, jams!” Maudie was already heading for the table.

  “Toast and tea would be fine,” Eva assured him. He had a word with the young man, who trotted for the kitchen.

  Eva settled herself next to Maudie on one of the high-backed wooden chairs that surrounded the table. Rather like old-fashioned thrones, hard, firm, with carved arms that ended in a leering dragon. The earl must adore them.

  “I understand you’ve taken one of the guest suites above the withdrawing room,” Mr. Howland said as he sat on the chair at the head of the table, of course. “Where would you like Mrs. Tully?”

  As close as possible.

  Odd. Where had that thought come from? Maudie had a delightful imagination, and she surely took Eva’s mind off her predicament, but Eva was used to having her own room, making her own choices. Why did she suddenly want to clutch the lady close?

  “So long as it’s not the dungeon, I can manage,” Maudie put in as Yeager returned with a tray bearing heavy porcelain cups that steamed. Pym followed with toast, butter, and jam.

  “Does the earl have a dungeon?” Eva asked as they laid out the meal before them.

  “No,” Mr. Howland said with a look to Maudie. “This hunting lodge may have been built to resemble a medieval castle, but it’s less than two hundred years old. The previous earls saw no need for a dungeon.”

  “Of course not,” Maudie agreed, slathering raspberry jam on her toast. “They already had the caves.”

  “Caves?” Eva asked.

  Mr. Howland was having none of it. “I will not house you there either, madam. I am not an ogre. Or a troll,” he hurried to add when Maudie opened her mouth.

  He reached for his cup and drank deep. Eva applied herself to the meal.

  “So, where will you put me?” Maudie asked as they all finished and Yeager set about clearing.

  “Since I am in a guest suite, there must be others nearby,” Eva said. “Perhaps we should go look.”

  Of course, Mr. Howland joined them. He didn’t seem to want to let them out of his sight for more than a moment. It was quick work to determine that the bedchamber directly opposite Eva’s would suit Maudie just fine. She particularly liked the view down the drive.

  “That way,” she said, “I’ll see them coming.”

  “I’ll take the suite at the beginning of the wing on the other side of the landing,” Mr. Howland said before Eva could ask who Maudie thought might arrive. “I can be near at hand if needs arise.”

  What needs did he think would arise? She had Yeager to protect her, and the magistrate didn’t believe Maudie’s stories.

  Did he?

  He certainly stuck to their sides the rest of the day as she explored a bit more of the main floor. She and Maudie had great fun pulling off various covers to find the hidden treasures. In the great hall alone, they exposed a high-backed carved bench and a chest with ivory inlay on the lid. The best part was the twin marble statues flanking the hearth, sculpted in classical lines to resemble a Grecian lady with a vase balanced on her head. Maudie studied her the longest, reaching around it as if to measure the circumference, smoothing her hands down the stone fabric of the gown, and peering up into the face.

  “Odd,” she said when Eva came to collect her. “I don’t recall seeing a fairy this large before.”

  Mr. Howland looked away as if trying to hide his smile.

  Beyond the great hall, they discovered a disappointing library with few books lying on mostly empty shelves. But on the other side of the withdrawing room sat a music room, gilt chairs lined up as if awaiting the next concert. Eva peeked under one of the draped cloths to find a harpsichord, lacquered in black with gilt appointments.

  “Do you play, Miss Faraday?” Mr. Howland asked as she trailed a finger along the keys.

  “I never learned,” she confessed.

  “I did,” Maudie said. She pulled the cloth the rest of the way off and plunked herself down on the bench.

  Eva wasn’t sure what to expect, but a quite passible melody pranced from her fingers.

  “I used to play at the assemblies too,” she said as if she had noticed Eva’s surprise, “but they have a fancy quartet now. I can’t mind. More opportunity for me to dance.”

  Could Eva dance at the assembly? The earl had been adamant about her banishment.

  “Perhaps a month or two in your own company will give you a different perspective,” he’d said the last time they’d met.

  “One month or ten,” Eva had returned, “you will never convince me to accept an offer from your son. He doesn’t love me, and I don’t love him. He isn’t finished mourning his first wife.”

  His hand had come down on his desk. The papers had no more than rustled, but in the quiet of his study the movement had been like the crack of thunder. “None of that matters. Thorgood will do as I tell him. I advise you to think carefully before contemplating otherwise.”

  She stood by her word. She would choose her own husband. The earl could keep her here at the worst ten months, when she would have access to her own funds and no longer have to rely on his good will. Of course, whoever she married would take control of her fortune. That was the law, and she had never heard of a way around it. But she would not allow the earl to mismanage her father’s hard-won fortune the way he had mismanaged his own.

  Besides, his l
ordship wasn’t here now. He hadn’t even sent word to his watchdog. There was no one to stop her from visiting the spa, dancing the night away at the assembly. Maybe she’d finally meet a man she could trust with her future, someone who would value her more than the money she could bring him.

  For some reason, her gaze was drawn to James Howland. He had moved to one of the taller draped furnishings in the room. One hand rested on the peak, and his head was bowed, as if he was whispering to the thing. His golden hair reflected the sunlight coming through the narrow windows. He gripped the cloth and pulled it off.

  Eva caught her breath. She was at his side in an instant. “It’s beautiful.”

  The harp was crafted from maple, polished to a warm glow. The arch and head had been carved to curve like an ostrich plume. The glittering strings begged for her touch.

  As if he felt the same, he ran a hand gently along the wood. “It was my mother’s.”

  Her throat tightened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He frowned at her, hand falling. “Mother isn’t dead, Miss Faraday. She’s as much a prisoner as you are. If you’re as close to the earl as you claim, you must have met her. She resides in Howland House.”

  Eva blinked. “Does she? I never met a Mrs. Howland. The only other lady there besides the countess is Miss Marjorie.”

  “Miss?” He choked on the word. “My mother had the misfortune to marry a Howland, but marry she did. How dare he imply otherwise!”

  “That is rude,” Eva agreed. “I’m sorry I helped perpetuate the lie. I didn’t see your mother often, mind you. Lady Howland required much attention, and she keeps her companion close. But Miss…Mrs. Howland was always kind to me.”

  He inclined his head. “She would be. My mother is one of the kindest people I know. Forgive me for my vehemence in defending her. It’s difficult to see her slighted.”

  “I can imagine.” She made herself focus on the harp. “And I can understand how sad she must have felt to leave this behind. My harp was the first thing the earl took away.”

  “You play?” Immediately, he bent to uncover the seat. “Please. Mother would be delighted that someone who loved it as much as she did was using it.”

  She had played for the earl once, and he’d taken her instrument from her. She could not make herself give away her feelings so easily now.

  “Perhaps another time,” she said, turning her back on the instrument.

  Maudie began to play a dirge.

  ~~~

  Somehow, they made it through the day. The servants finished setting the house to rights. The scent of lemon polish hung in the air. Men delivered coal, food, candles, and lamp oil from somewhere. She wasn’t sure who had procured fresh fish for dinner, but she wasn’t going to question the gift. She, Maudie, and Mr. Howland made quick work of the meal. Then he excused himself, claiming the need to work.

  “He works?” Eva asked Maudie after they had returned to the withdrawing room.

  Beside her on the settee, Maudie shrugged. “Doesn’t anyone of any worth?”

  Eva smiled. “My father would say yes. The earl would not.”

  “Then he should talk to the trolls,” Maudie said. “They’d teach him a thing or two.”

  Eva leaned forward. “What would the smugglers you mentioned have to say to him?”

  “Oh, they talk to the earl all the time. He funds their cargo.”

  “Does he?” Eva leaned back. “I wish I could prove that. Perhaps someone would bring him up on charges.”

  Maudie sucked her teeth a moment before answering. “Your best chance would be to watch the caves. Mr. Howland and the militia captured one band of smugglers, but those caves have been used for generations. Someone else must be using them now.”

  Eva nodded. “And how would I find these caves?”

  Maudie pouted. “No easy way I know. But you might ask Jesslyn. She’s sailed in twice.”

  Eva grinned. “I cannot wait to meet your niece.”

  They chatted about other things then, staying up perhaps later than was usual, until they decided it was time to retire. Yeager put out the lights behind them.

  Eva gave Maudie a hug at the top of the landing.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I thought I would be abandoned here, but I feel as if I’ve made a friend instead.”

  Maudie beamed at her. “Me as well. You’re even better than the mermaids.”

  Eva smiled as Maudie continued to her own room. Yeager had disappeared toward the kitchen, taking the last light with him. The corridor seemed empty suddenly, the house too silent. She couldn’t even hear a clock ticking. She might well have been alone.

  Below a movement caught her eye.

  Someone was opening the door of the castle, for a shaft of moonlight widened across the floor. A shadow stepped into the light, cloak flowing, then darted into the great hall.

  That couldn’t be a servant.

  It must be an intruder.

  Eva opened her mouth and screamed.

  Chapter Four

  James had been sitting on an armchair by the fire, reviewing the reports from various properties around the area, when a scream pierced the silence. He was on his feet and moving before it finished echoing. Pym darted out of the dressing room to meet him at the door of the bedchamber he’d chosen.

  “What could that be, sir?”

  “Load my pistol,” James said, and his valet’s eyes went round as saucers.

  He did not wait for Pym to comply but strode out into the corridor. Miss Faraday stood on the other side of the landing, her maid peering from her room. Mrs. Tully’s head stuck out of her room as well.

  Miss Faraday pointed down the stairs. “I saw someone sneaking into the house.”

  James eased himself to where the corridor met the open landing. Cautiously, he looked around the corner.

  The stairwell to the main floor was empty. Below, her man Yeager had come out of the corridor to the kitchen, lamp in his grip. He stared up at James.

  She must have understood the value of silence, for she tiptoed to James’s side and tilted her head to gaze down the stairs as well. Her curls brushed his cheek, and he caught a scent like ripe apples. Still, nothing else moved, and he heard no noise of a sudden footfall.

  He pulled back into the corridor just as Pym scurried up to him, offering the pistol with a shaking hand.

  James steadied the gun. “Go with Miss Faraday and protect her and the other ladies.”

  Pym stared down at the mother-of-pearl handled pistol.

  Miss Faraday opened her palm. “I know how to shoot. Do you expect an attack, Mr. Howland?”

  “I don’t know,” James said as Pym surrendered the pistol to her with a shudder. “Lock yourself in your room just in case. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  She made a face. “Unsatisfactory. What if something happens to you? You may have a quarter hour, then I’m sending Pym to the village for help.”

  “Agreed,” James said. He watched as she gathered everyone up, like a hen collecting her chicks, and vanished into her bedchamber. Then he started down the stairs.

  “Did you see anything?” he asked Yeager.

  The tall, gangly servant shook his head. “I was just making sure the fire was banked in the kitchen before retiring. Then I heard Miss Eva scream.” He glanced up the stairs. “She doesn’t scare easily.”

  “And she may have nothing to fear now,” James said. “She said she saw someone coming into the castle. You’re sure all the cleaning staff have left?”

  Yeager nodded. “Saw them out myself.” He lifted the lantern higher, sending shadows leaping up the walls of the great hall. “If she saw someone, we may have a thief.”

  An easy explanation, but James feared something more. “Grab the poker from the hearth, and follow me.”

  Together, they covered the great hall and library, but nothing seemed out of place. The two statues Eva and Mrs. Tully had unveiled stared balefully ahead. James ventured into the withdrawing room. Th
e fire had been banked here as well, and all lights extinguished. The shadows from Yeager’s lamp made every piece of furniture seem bigger, darker.

  “Look around,” James said. “I’ll check the windows.”

  But the narrow windows were all latched, their velvet draperies undisturbed.

  Yeager completed his circuit of the room and returned to James’s side. “Nothing, sir.”

  James faced the door to the music room. “Stand ready.” He moved to take the latch and pushed the door open, dodging aside in case something came flying out.

  No movement. Silence.

  Yeager peered past him, lantern up. Besides the harp and the harpsichord, nothing else had been undraped. But then, nothing else was large enough to hide behind or under.

  James pulled the door shut. “It appears Miss Faraday’s scream scared him off. Perhaps you should stay with her tonight. It might ease her concerns.”

  Yeager snorted, then turned the sound into a cough. “I told you. She’s not scared of anything. She sat her first horse at four, and it was a horse, not a pony. Her father had a saddle made just for her short legs. She was leaping fences by the time she was eight. He taught her to shoot and box as well. She can take care of herself.”

  Rather impressive. The earl had certainly mistaken his target this time. Then again, just because she could defend herself physically didn’t mean she wasn’t vulnerable to the earl’s schemes. He knew how well his cousin played the game, to his sorrow.

  “I promised to tell her what we learned in any event,” James said. “She can decide whether she wants you close.”

  Yeager went ahead of him toward the great hall. James glanced around the withdrawing room again, but still he saw nothing out of place. He could not shake the feeling that Miss Faraday’s stranger had been his mysterious lamp lighter. He risked much entering a building that was now occupied. Even if none of the remaining lamps showed outside, once he’d entered the great hall he would have seen the glow from above. He had to realize people were about. So why chance getting caught?

  And why the great hall? Before, the lamp had been lit on the chamber story, where it could be seen by sea. The stairs to the caves were accessed through the kitchen. What would anyone want with the great hall, library, withdrawing room, or music room?