by Regina Scott
He knew the jeweler well. “I would prefer to deal with you directly. Questions would be raised about Miss Faraday’s circumstances if it were known I was providing her funds as the earl’s agent. Perhaps I could have Priestly provide the funds, and you could give the money to Mr. Lawrence. If Miss Faraday asks about the cost, assure her it has been met.”
“I see,” she said, and he feared she saw too much. “Very well, Magistrate. However, you might want to pay for however long you expect Miss Faraday to be in the area rather than month by month. I am delighted to help, but I cannot promise the physician who is taking over will feel the same.”
“And I can promise you that I will speak to this Doctor Bennett about your position,” he told her. “The spa will not function without someone of your skills at the helm. Grace-by-the-Sea has no one finer.”
“You are too kind,” she said, lowering her gaze. He excused himself to return to Eva.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” he said. “If you’re ready to go?” He motioned toward the door.
She fluttered dark lashes at him. “I fear I hadn’t quite finished my business in the village, Mr. Howland. If you insist on playing escort, you will have to amuse yourself for a while.”
If that was how she’d addressed the earl, small wonder his cousin had found her headstrong. Still, James couldn’t help admiring her bravado. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would be delighted to wait for your least command, madam.”
Once more Miss Archer glanced between them, then she grinned at Miss Faraday. “What can I show you, my dear?”
~~~
Eva kept one eye on James Howland as the energetic Miss Archer led her and Maudie about the gallery, pausing only to settle accounts with the other visitors and send them and Miss Chance on their way. Eva had a few coins left in her reticule, so she could buy something. Not that she needed to. The house her father had left her was still standing in London, filled to the rafters with fine furnishings, art, and statuary. She’d merely been trying to put James in his place. She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily again.
What was he plotting?
He certainly looked as if he were contriving complex strategies as he stood to one side of the door. His blue eyes were narrowed just the slightest, as if he didn’t want anyone to see the thoughts flying behind them. And he appeared to like that particular stance, arms crossed, booted legs braced. Did he know it made him look rather dashing, like a pirate king come to claim the village?
A giggle bubbled up at the image, and she turned her back on her distracting jailer.
“He is rather full of himself,” Miss Archer murmured, handing Eva a lace collar to consider. “But you must know about the Howlands, being a particular friend of the earl.”
She said it with all politeness, yet Eva knew that term could be used in far less kind ways. “I am, in a sense, the earl’s ward,” she explained, setting down the collar and picking up another with tiny glass beads that caught the light. “He thought I might learn obedience by sending me away.”
Miss Archer’s face stiffened. “Then you are in a difficult position.”
Eva fingered the fine thread of the collar. “Nothing I cannot handle, Miss Archer.”
“She has the trolls on her side,” Maudie agreed.
“Not the mermaids?” Miss Archer asked with a fond look her way.
Maudie regarded her as if she’d gone mad. “Certainly not. Fickle and jealous, that’s what they are.”
“You can tell them they need not envy me,” Eva assured her, laying the collar back down with the others on the display table. “And I thank you both for your concern, but I need no rescue. Should that change, I will be sure to let you know.”
In the end, she’d purchased one of the purple-painted lidded pottery jars, thanked Miss Archer for her time, and followed James Howland out the door.
Yeager hurriedly gathered up their belongings. Seeing his ungainly pile, Eva decided to carry the jar herself.
“Was there a reason you decided to come collect me?” she asked the magistrate as they started walking up High Street. “Or had I exceeded the limit of your patience? I imagine it’s not excessive.”
His mouth tightened a moment before he responded. “I heard from the earl. He confirms your statements.”
She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased to have been vindicated or annoyed he’d accepted the earl’s word but not hers. “And so I am confined to the castle again.”
“Those were his orders,” he agreed.
“And you always follow orders,” she guessed. She turned onto Castle Walk, Yeager and Maudie right behind.
“No,” he clipped out. “I do not.”
Eva eyed him, surprised. Once more that face was set, that jaw determined. Had she finally found a Howland with both backbone and integrity?
“What are you saying, Mr. Howland?” she asked.
He looked back at Maudie. “Mrs. Tully, forgive me. I would like to ask you to extend your time with us as chaperone. Miss Faraday will need your services for the next ten months. I will work out compensation with your niece.”
Maudie frowned. “Why? Are you going to hire Jess too?”
“No,” he assured her. “I thought perhaps she might have a better idea of the proper rate for chaperones.”
Nicely done. Maudie might well have requested payment in fairy dust. This way, he made sure she was paid fairly without intimating she might not be her own best advocate.
“Given your prolonged stay,” he continued, “you will want to collect a few more belongings to take back to the castle. Miss Faraday and I will wait for you on the bench at the first turning. Mr. Yeager can continue up to the castle with the packages. We’ll be in full view of the village, so there should be no impropriety.”
“Good,” Maudie said. “Just remember, there’s a fairy hole under the bench. I can always ask them if you’ve behaved.” With a nod, she turned down the street.
“Miss Eva?” Yeager asked with a sidelong glance at the magistrate.
“Go ahead,” Eva told him.
Her man squared his shoulders and started up the path.
“You’re quite good about getting rid of witnesses when it suits you,” Eva told James.
He turned toward the path, where Yeager was trudging upward. “A trait that comes in handy from time to time.”
They climbed to where the path made its first turn, then sat on the little stone bench there. The sea glittered like a diamond over the tops of the roofs. James seemed content to gaze on it, long legs stretched in front of him.
“And?” Eva urged him.
He kept his eyes on the distance. “The earl seems to think that isolation will be your salvation.”
Eva choked. “My salvation? From what exactly does he think I need to be saved? Besides him, of course.”
His look came back to hers, as blue and bright as the waves. “Why has he taken that stance?”
So, the earl hadn’t told him all. Should she? He was a Howland. Though he had sounded suitably defiant a moment ago, he must obey the earl’s commands at least part of the time or the earl would not have allowed him to remain in this position. But if he was beginning to question those orders, shouldn’t she encourage him?
“My father was Arden Faraday, the financier,” she told him, fingers stroking the pottery jar in her lap. “He built a well-respected practice advising the rich and powerful on how to invest their funds. The earl was one of his clients.”
“And, on his death, he remanded you to his lordship’s care,” he said.
“No,” Eva said. “I’d already reached my majority when he became ill. I could have lived alone with a chaperone like Mrs. Tully. But my father thought I was too young to manage the wealth that would come to me as his only child. He made the earl trustee over my inheritance until I reached the age of five and twenty. And, because the amount of money I am allowed to access until then is ridiculously small given the total, I am beholden on the earl for a h
ome and sustenance.”
“I take it you found Howland House less than satisfactory, then,” he said, voice neutral.
Her fingers were tightening. She took them away from the pretty jar. “It was as much a prison as the castle. The earl dictated when I might go out, where, and with whom. Within a few weeks, I was only allowed out with him or Viscount Thorgood. It soon became apparent he intended me to wed Viscount Thorgood.”
The change was almost imperceptible, a slight shift of his shoulders, the twist of one knee. What had she said to discomfort him?
“Thorgood is a fine fellow,” he said, but his voice had gone oddly flat.
“He was all kindness,” she assured him. “But he is still in mourning for his first wife, and I am not ready to be a mother to his daughter. Besides, she despised me at first sight.”
“Lady Miranda can take some getting used to,” he acknowledged.
“The countess does her no favors by granting her every wish,” Eva countered. “And her father will not stand up against his father. Regardless, I told the earl in no uncertain terms that I would not marry his heir. That’s when he sent me here.”
“It is unlike the earl to take such an interest in a lady,” he observed. “He must have admired your father.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “He admired what my father accomplished. He bears me no love whatsoever. In short, Mr. Howland, your cousin wants my fortune. My father has it tied up nicely, so the earl cannot lay a finger on it until I gain access. I will not let him have it, even if I must stay inside that castle for the next ten months without seeing a soul.”
“Then you are determined to wait him out.”
Eva swallowed. Up until now, he had been more understanding than she would have expected, rather helpful, really. It might all be an act to lull her into complacency. Yet the earl could have told him about the other stipulation of her father’s will, and he hadn’t. Did that mean he didn’t trust his watchdog?
Did that mean she should?
Her father had been a man willing to take risks for the sake of reward. She should not be afraid to follow in his footsteps.
“Not necessarily,” she told him. “There is another way to gain my fortune sooner.” She met his gaze. “When I marry, whatever my age, my fortune goes in its entirety to the control of my husband. That’s why the earl is determined that I marry a Howland, immediately.”
Chapter Seven
Ingenious, underhanded. Exactly like the earl, but for one thing.
“I didn’t realize his lordship needed money,” James said.
She made a face, sunlight picking out her thick lashes. “He borrowed from my father against a harvest he expected. It was lost to poor weather.”
That would not have been enough to dim the fortunes of the Howlands. Yet he could not doubt Eva this time. The earl had been remarkably tight-fisted in recent months. Economizing, perhaps? Had the earl made other poor financial decisions? James’s work only involved the properties in Dorset. Were the others less profitable? Would they lose the acres in Northumberland, the plantations in the Caribbean? How long would the estates in Dorset remain solvent if the earl began bleeding them dry?
“So,” she said, fingers fiddling with the pretty lidded jar on her lap, “what will it be, Mr. Howland? Will you side with the earl, or me?”
There was no question about his answer. He’d been working to thwart the earl since before he’d reached his majority. He rose and offered her his hand. “The earl has no business separating you from your inheritance. You have my support, however much good it will do you.”
She set the jar aside and popped to her feet to throw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you! You cannot know what this means to me.”
And she could not know the emotions careening through him.
Astonishment—it wasn’t often anyone dared hug the magistrate.
Determination—once more he would stop his cousin’s machinations.
Pride—he could still be of use to someone.
And pleasure.
He disengaged. “Do not thank me yet, Miss Faraday. We have a long way to go to defeat the earl.”
“I know,” she said, bending to retrieve her jar. “But between your understanding of him and my tenacity, we will triumph. If we are to be conspirators, you should call me Eva. I shall call you James, unless you prefer a nickname.”
He eyed her.
She giggled. “No, of course not. I should have known. James it is.”
He didn’t argue the informality. It was surprisingly sweet to hear his first name on her lips and said with a tinge of awe, as if he’d done something praiseworthy.
“So, let us discuss this imprisonment of yours,” he said, glancing down the hill but catching no sight of Mrs. Tully returning yet. “The earl orders strict isolation.”
She sobered. “I understand. What do you advise?”
“Some hold that Grace-by-the-Sea is isolated enough,” he told her. “But you’ll find quite a society at the spa. We have Regulars who come for the summer or stay year-round. Irregulars visit occasionally. Newcomers generally come once and for a short time, though everyone generally starts as one.”
“Are there pins denoting the categories?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want to mistake anyone.”
He could hear the humor in her voice. “Perhaps we should create some, especially with Miss Chance leaving soon.”
She nodded. “Miss Archer explained the situation. This physician sounds high handed. Who recommended him, the earl?”
“The Spa Corporation chose him from candidates proposed by the Royal College of Surgeons in London, and I understand it took some convincing to get him to come. Not many want to relocate to the coast these days, not with Napoleon crowding the opposite shore.”
She glanced out toward the sea. “Do you think the French will invade, then?”
James shrugged. “Napoleon would be mad to try it. The weather changes suddenly and capriciously on the Channel, and he must know we’ll be ready for him.”
She looked back at him again, smile turning up. “Spoken like a true Englishman. You may be right. Perhaps whatever he saw when Maudie spied him on the headland dissuaded him. Or it could have been his agent I saw last night.”
He did not want to entertain that notion. “Whoever it was, I dislike the idea of anyone sneaking about my castle.”
Her brows went up, and too late he realized that he had claimed ownership of the earl’s property again. He was only glad to see Mrs. Tully approaching. Her arms were laden with boxes and fabric, and a carpetbag hung off one wrist.
As soon as she reached their sides, she juggled her pile to bend and look under the bench. “Everything all right, then?”
For a moment, he thought he heard a low-pitched squeak in response. Eva must have heard it too, for she started.
Mrs. Tully straightened. “Sounds as if you’ve behaved. Good. Shall we?” She began climbing the path before James could offer to help her carry her load. With one more look at the bench, Eva followed. James waited until they had made the next turning before bending to peer under the bench, but the shadows were too deep for him to make out anything.
Cheeks feeling hot, he straightened and lengthened his stride to catch up to the women.
~~~
The sun felt brighter, the breeze warmer. It seemed Eva had an ally, and it was the last person she might have expected. She took a deep breath, reveling in the scent of crisp brine and sweet wildflowers. Thanks to James Howland, she had every hope of defeating the earl and reclaiming her life.
She glanced at the man who had come to walk beside her as they started across the headland for the castle. Shadows from the leaves patterned his chiseled face, making it look more thoughtful, solemn. Did he never smile?
On a whim, she reached out and took his hand. He glanced at her, brows up in question, but he didn’t protest or pull away. Her heart gave a little skip.
Careful, Eva. The voice in her head sounded suspiciously lik
e her father’s. Look at the ledger. What’s in the debit column? What’s in the credit? Can this man do what he’s claiming, or is he a bad risk?
If only she could be sure.
He pulled away from her as they reached the terrace of the castle. Perhaps he was merely using that hand to open the door for her, but it almost felt as if he didn’t want his staff to notice that he had been holding her hand.
He bowed to her and Maudie. “I have some arrangements to make. I’ll see you both at dinner.”
He was heading for the stairs before she could thank him once more.
“I’ll just take this to my room,” she told no one in particular.
Upstairs, she found that Yeager had brought her other packages, at least the ones that didn’t contain edible items, and Patsy was standing by the bed as if trying to determine what to do with them.
“So, there must be some shopping here,” she said.
“Quite a bit,” Eva replied, going to put the jar on the dressing table. Funny how that made the room seem more like home. “I’ll take you with me next time.”
“Then it’s true. We’re staying.”
She sounded so depressed by the fact that Eva turned to face her. Patsy’s head was down, her shoulders slumped in her black bombazine gown and white apron.
“It won’t be so bad, Patsy,” Eva said. “Mr. Howland is on our side. And it’s only ten months. Then we can return to the bustle of London.”
Patsy heaved a sigh. “Will you bother changing for dinner, then?”
She hadn’t the previous evening. Yet she’d had little hope then, and so much more now. “Yes. Lay out my purple gown and its sash. I feel like celebrating.”
Patsy went to do as she’d bid. Eva had always favored brighter colors, but the countess had wrinkled her nose and declared that young ladies wore pastels. So, Eva had promptly used her allotment of monthly pin money to buy a length of purple satin, purple embroidered gauze, and a sash the color of the fuchsias in Kew Garden. The countess had averted her eyes whenever Eva wore the outfit.